


Something Borrowed, Something Blue

by MadMadameEm



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Character Development, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMadameEm/pseuds/MadMadameEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vol'jin hadn't exactly been looking for a life-long partner when a proposal was made to the Horde and Alliance for a marriage to cement their peace efforts. He most certainly didn't expect negotiations to get as far as they did, or for both sides to agree. But what he really didn't expect was for his bride to be so...so...well, they would certainly keep each other entertained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He was in no position to place judgment, really, but this was ridiculous.

Khadgar had remained relatively neutral throughout most of the conflict between the Alliance and the Horde, preferring to deal with his own personal vendettas before becoming involved with any such internal squabbles. If one were to ask him in the past about the topic, he would reply with a casual 'no comment'. It was much easier on the conscience to do your fighting against a universal and ancient evil that threatened the stability and livelihood of the whole world. One could spill the blood of the Burning Legion, demolish their strongholds, undermine all their plans, and then return home to enjoy freshly brewed tea and a good book without any regrets.

And that was how things should have been, were it not for the aforementioned squabbles that seemed determined to foil all of his plans. Not even a week had gone after the defeat of Sargeras, rumors of revived Alliance and Horde conflicts began to resurface. It had started with some trade altercations with other neutral factions, then expanded to travelers on roads, and finally to major neutral towns and ports.

Which explained why he was sitting at his desk, reading a report about a fight that had broken out between four mages at his Zangarra…all while consciously choosing to ignore the chaotic mix of letters and documents scattered across his desk comprised of similar reports and letters from leaders of note, egging him to choose a side. He had since returned to Dalaran to take care of matters at home with the hope that things wouldn't become too bad in his absence. Well…

If one were to ask him now about the animosity between the two factions, his answer would be quite simple…

"This is all quite ludicrous, thank you very much," Khadgar muttered to himself as he tossed yet another letter of complaint into the nearby hearth. He was beginning to feel more like a parent try to chastise two rowdy siblings than one of the powerful leaders of the Kirin Tor.

After all the effort he had put into making sure that both sides could unite for a common goal back on Draenor, he refused to see it deteriorate. This campaign had proved that peace, or at least a perpetual ceasefire, was possible, and he would take his meddling to new extremes if it meant securing such a feat. If only there was some way to make a permanent tie between the two factions. Something that wouldn't just end with the defeat of some conglomerate of hateful, fel weaving maniacs or whatever.

But what?

"Another letter came for you this morning, Master."

Ah, yes. Time to return to reality; he could attempt to bring his hopes to life at another time.

"Thank you, my dear, hand it here. And stay for a moment, I may write a reply."

He outstretched his hand and his apprentice turned it over with a tusked smile while placing a cup of tea on his desk with her other hand. Oh yes, his apprentice. He was reluctant at first to take one on, but eventually gave in mostly to make the other Kirin Tor leaders shut up. Of course, he had to cause as much of a stir as possible (he had a reputation to uphold), so the most obvious and logical choice had been Miss Nadia Ravenscroft.

A half-troll half-human with ties to Alliance nobility, Khadgar had heard her name come up multiple times from both casual and political gossip. After weeding through the various racist and sexist comments that accompanied her profile, it was revealed that she had the grudging acknowledgement of being a profoundly talented mage…with an insubordinate backbone and smart tongue to match.

He requested her immediately.

His weathered hands broke the seal and pulled out what appeared to be an invitation of some sort…to a wedding. He didn't bother to even try and suppress the groan that reverberated in his throat. Nadia's patient expression turned into one of inquiry, "Something wrong?"

"Do you know how many of these I get?" He waved the paper around carelessly, "For these…political family alliances? I haven't actually been to a genuine wedding in ages. Unfortunately, I must go, for appearances sake and all: please write back a confirmation. At least there will be good food, and it's not everyday I get to wear my best robes," he handed the letter back and her lips formed into a dreamy smile.

"I don't know, I kind of like weddings, if they're for real and not…why are you looking at me like that?"

He didn't mean to stare, but an idea had struck him like lightning. Weddings…marriage…political ties…the gears in his head turned as they pieced together information and estimated the possibility of this plan actually working. Nadia was technically Alliance despite her neutral affiliation, and a certain red-haired faction leader was definitely still unmarried… There would be multiple hoops to jump through, an unbelievable amount of paperwork, and gods knew how much pomp and circumstance…but it could work.

"Oh nothing," he replied finally while picking up his drink and taking a small sip. He continued to stare at her over the rim of the teacup, "Tell me: you are half troll, yes?"

"…Yes."

"Good, good…and, by chance, would you happen to be single?"


	2. Part 1: The Single LIfe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vol'jin reflects on his current lifestyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for continuing on with this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and updates should happen every other day or so.

Whoever was responsible for the overlapping days between the Harvest Festival and Brewfest deserved some form of commemoration in their honor. Good food and even better beer were fundamental to a healthy, happy life.

Well, maybe not, but they were for him at least.

Essential or not, the streets of Orgrimmar were even more full of life than usual as its citizens, young and old, had gathered with their friends and families throughout the city. They celebrated either the Harvest Festival or Brewfest; or both, for he could see many people alternating from the tables of plenty to the kegs that had been set out.

Everyone was up to something; some danced, others sang, children ran about and wove between the legs of their elders, and many were smiling and laughing. Warriors, healers, and defenders were interwoven with civilians, as they had laid down their respective duties and titles in exchange for a day to be one with their people. Cooks and servers ran back and forth from braziers to tables as they carried away empty plates to clean and returned with replenished platters. Breweries advertised their drinks and happily refilled mugs that were never allowed to stay empty for too long in exchange for a few silver. There were even some high-ranking members of the Horde scattered amongst the crowds.

Music and delicious smells wafted together in the air. The setting sun made everything glow orange and brought out the red in the faction's banners that hung from the walls and stakes in the ground and waved in the air. Groups sang and laughed while others danced; some sat in groups and exchanged stories with equal parts truth and exaggeration. All in all, everyone, no matter their background, celebrated this day shoulder-to-shoulder with old friends and new.

Yet, he watched it all from atop the Gates of Orgrimmar.

He was alone, save for a few soldiers many yards away. After tapping the keg not even an hour ago, he had retreated unseen to the top of the gates. There was no solid reason to remain down there again. Being a part of that swirling, chaotic revelry had lost its appeal after the third time. Which was strange, he thought, for before now he had looked forward to nothing more than simply being a part of the Horde.

Vol'jin sighed and ran his fingers through his long mane of hair. He had been doing that a lot lately, sighing and running his fingers through his hair. His gaze fell on a particular gaggle of children that had been running around for the past few minutes poking fun at adults. Then, to a circle that had formed where both couples and singles danced inside the ring. And finally, to a large audience that sat enthralled in front of a large Tauren in full armor that was using wild gestures as he told an even wilder tale.

Normally, he would be down there listening to that story, or even be bold and take part in a dance or two. But things did not feel quite normal anymore. The Horde was still his family, yes, and it was not that he didn't take pleasure in such things any longer. It was just…he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but…

"You should be down dere with ya people, mon, instead o' up here watchin' like some hawk."

He turned his head to watch the shaman walk towards him from the stairwell. The troll had heard Vanira approach before she had even spoken, though chose not to acknowledge her presence until now. If she had gone so far as to seek him out from up here, he would let her say whatever it was that she needed to say.

"I can see why ya be up here, though. Ya must be proud," she continued while stopping to stand right next to him, "ta know more of ya people can celebrate today, and want ta take it all in."

"Yes," he responded hesitantly, wondering where the conversation could be going this time.

She crossed her arms and smiled, "Dey ain't got a war to worry about or fight in at da moment, and can put all their energy into good days like dese. Dere be more time fo' personal wants an' needs, ya?"

The only response she got was an acknowledging hum; he was still suspicious.

"Mebbeh you should follow ya people's lead and start fulfillin' some personal goals, mebbeh start lookin' for someone…"

Oh…oh…that's where this conversation was headed.

"Vanira," he tried to interject, "I –."

"Some of us been thinkin' dat you could use someone ta help care for and support ya," she had cut him off with ease, as though he had never even attempted to interrupt, "ya be Warchief now, havin' anotha person to be dere for ya besides us can't hurt."

"So, my own people be plottin' against me already? Dat was fast," he couldn't help but chuckle and say this with a half smile. A part of him knew it was only a matter of time before these discussions came to life again, but it was comical to see them revived so quickly, "An' who be dis 'we' ya talkin' about? I know all o' ya been gettin' married recently, but I don' tink I'm gonna catch dis wedding fevah dat has been goin' around."

This made Vanira pause. It was true though; he had begun to realize about a month ago that everyone and their cousin seemed to be getting hitched lately. It had started in the working class, and then spread up the ranks until the first actual celebration he had attended had been Baine's wedding. It was a rather pleasant surprise, to say the least, and the woman who had become his mate was strong and caring. It was a good match, and he had no doubts that they would be happy. The last wedding he had been to had been Vanira and Rokhan's; also a surprise, yet his feelings remained hopeful and he expressed good wishes and blessings toward the couple.

"Dis ain't about us an' who all be matin'," she pressed, "dis is about you. We seen how you been lately, an' we worry. You could use someone else ta take care of ya."

"I can take care of mahself."

"Nobody be takin' care o' themselves alone, mon. We all need someone."

"Ain't dat what you be for?" he questioned teasingly. Even though he wasn't looking at her, Vol'jin could practically feel her smirking.

"Ya got a lot o' people standing with you; ya always been like a brotha' to me, an ya be like my brotha' still. But I got a husband now, and a sista' ain't like a mate. Da bond you need is one ya ain't gonna find in ya friends or in da Horde."

The only response she got was a soft 'hmm' from the faction leader standing beside her. It was clear he was going to be hardheaded (as usual) on this matter, and would require some convincing from others close to him and not just her. She huffed in annoyance at his stubbornness, but pressed on.

"Ya can still lead da Horde an' fulfill ya desires and needs."

"No, I can't."

"We just wantcha to be happy."

"I be content."

"Content ain't da same as happy."

It was his turn to pause. There was some truth to her words, but he could not ponder on just how true they were. Not now. After the Horde had come as far as it did – after he had come this far – he could not even risk it faltering due to his personal desires getting in the way. He had never questioned his bachelor lifestyle until now. Not that he desired or questioned anything, no. He had a family; the Horde was his family.

Don'cha think dat ya be wantin' something else, mon? Somethin' more?

The moment that other voice spoke up, he silenced it. There was a slight shift of power between both trolls now, and not in his favor. Though the two had never made eye contact throughout this entire conversation, Vol'jin could feel Vanira looking at him now. And while he had tried to keep his face as passive as possible, the shaman beside him had known him long enough to notice even the most subtle of shifts in his façade.

The seeds of uncertainty had been planted within him, which was most likely what Vanira and whoever else was in on this had hoped to achieve.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead in irritation, as if to try and wipe away the questions that were beginning to work their way into his head. He finally looked over at her after a moment, "Is dere anotha reason ya came all da way up here to find me? Otha than to poke an' prod at my romantic life?"

Despite the self-questioning that was beginning to gain momentum; he refused to break so easily and kept his voice even. Also, it was probably best to end the conversation now before it took a turn for the worst.

Vanira seemed to sense his stubbornness and rolled her eyes as she answered, "Ya be needed back at da hold, Warchief."

He nodded at her once before turning and making his way over to the stairs. The guards saluted as he approached, and Vanira called out to his withdrawing figure.

"Ya been single fo' too long, son of Sen'jin! It only be natural to want a mate, and it only be a matter o' time before da Loa start ta mess with ya!"

Don' remind me… "Go back ta ya husband, Vanira," he responded without needing looking back. "I'm sure da both of ya will conspire anotha interesting' plot against me once more. I be lookin' forward to what'chu come up wit next."

"Fight all ya want, Warchief!" She teased, "But it only be a matter o' time before ya start ta crave a companion; an' a contest against dat type o' hunger ain't one nobody can win!"

"I welcome da challenge."

"Erzulie gonna stab ya right in da heart wit dat dagger o' hers.* Just wait an' see; ya gonna fall hard and be just as dumb in love as da rest o' us."

"Good night, Vanira."


	3. Part 2: The Two-Thirds Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Khadgar takes his apprentice out for tea and tries to get her personal details...

To say that Nadia was terrified at the moment would be a complete and absolute understatement.

When Khadgar made the proposal for them to grab tea together after talking about weddings and such made her nervous. She supposed she could have said no, but she was his apprentice/secretary/housekeeper and gave a panicked 'yes'. Were it any other man, she most likely would have given a flat no.

But this was Archmage Khadgar: emphasis on the Archmage, double emphasis on Khadgar! The man was a legend!

Nadia had grown up in the Underbelly of Dalaran for most of her life. There, honor was defended in the form of illegal brawls and pedigree was an eight letter word. It had taken her a while to learn the do's and don'ts of the more 'refined' people she now associated with, and she was still learning.

But all that aside, even she knew that you just don't say "no" to a legend. You just don't, no matter how much you want to!

It wasn't that she started out totally opposed. In fact, the master and apprentice had occasionally taken their meals together before. But after he had invited her to tea, he began to act...weird.

It started when he began sending her to fetch different materials about the different laws of marriage among various groups of people on Azeroth. At first, she didn't think much of it, but then a week went by and he was still obsessed on the topic. Her suspicion increased the following week when Khadgar started calling on multiple lawyers and other legal advisers; half of which, she knew through the grapevine, specialized in marriage contracts and the like. Nadia also began to see less and less of him until the only interaction the two had were for her lessons.

At this point, she was still only curious as to what he was doing. Nadia knew that whatever it was he was up to must have been noteworthy; the archmage only really got like this when investing in something important. She may have only been working for him for a while, but he had some rather obvious ticks despite his skilled poker-face and ability to spin all sorts of stories. Since he was being so private about whatever it was and wasn't behaving too out of the ordinary (for Khadgar anyway), she didn't ponder too much on the subject….

Until he barged in on her quietly enjoying a book one afternoon and asked for a copy of all her documentation and records.

Because he was her master and probably the second most trustworthy person she knew, Nadia provided him with copies of her information. Her suspicion and anxiety were now at an all time high, though. His recent actions combined with the questions he had asked about her being single two weeks ago, it was impossible to not feel anxious about suddenly being asked on what was reminiscent of a date.

All Nadia could do was hope that her hunch was wrong as she stood awkwardly in the foyer of one of Dalaran's finest tea destinations while waiting for the hostess to return. She unbuttoned her coat and began to slide it off as she admired the beautiful chandelier above her. This place most certainly lived up to its reputation; an amazing ceiling with very detailed tiles and molding, buffed marble floors, and ground to ceiling windows that allowed patrons to look out and see falling snow over the rooftops of the city were just a few of the cafe's many features.

"Can I take your coat, miss?"

The young woman jumped a little at the voice that spoke in front of her. The hostess, a slim blood elf that stood a little shorter than her shoulders, had returned and was gesturing for her jacket. Her expression was patient, yet she must have noticed how she'd caught Nadia off guard as an amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Oh! Ah, yeah, thanks," she replied hastily, yet didn't hand it over just yet. Nadia twisted the garment in her hands and stared uncertainly at the hostess' outstretched arms, "Um, I'll get it back, though...right?"

The elf chuckled, "Yes, miss. We'll take very good care of it."

Nadia's cheeks reddened as she sheepishly handed over her coat. She had never been to a place as nice as this before, let alone have anyone ask her for her coat. Why did they want it? Was it against the rules to wear them inside or drape it across the back of your chair or something?

"Ah, don't fret, miss," the hostess reassured her with a smile, sensing the half-troll's embarrassment, "we get new clients of your...well...experience all the time."

"Oh," her face flushed even further. It must have been obvious that her rank was a much lower than that of the usual patron. Maybe it was her clothes, or her hair; her hair was very hard to get under any sort of control. And the robes she had worn that day were nowhere near as nice as the lovely dress on the hostess, which was probably for work, too.

The blood elf smiled again and made a sweeping gesture inside with her hand, "Archmage Khadgar is ready to receive you; if you'll follow me, please."

Without waiting for a response, the hostess spun on her heel and began weaving through tables and chairs to the back of the cafe. Nadia scampered after her while continuing to take in the scenery. Now that she was farther in, every detail of the interior was much more visible and vibrant.

The silverware on the tables was well polished and had handles with intricate designs. There were more forks and knives and spoons that she could have ever thought necessary for one meal. China plates and bowls with silver rims topped place-mats on every table. Matching tea cups and tall crystal glasses sat proudly next to them, catching light and sparkling as she passed. Smaller replicas of the chandelier in the foyer hung from various spots on the ceiling and lit up the room with a warm glow. And the whole place smelled amazing; Nadia couldn't put her finger on what it was, but if it tasted as good as its scent then it must be heavenly.

The pair continued to weave their way through tables and chairs, most of which were thankfully unoccupied. It was still pretty early in the day for tea so the cafè was still fairly empty save for a few patrons. A table of three gnome mages saw her and began waving excitedly; Nadia waved back and had to suppress a snicker when she saw that their chairs had been equipped with booster seats to accommodate their small stature. She had gone to the Academy with the trio and was on good enough terms to where she considered them friends. She had always liked gnomes for obvious reasons; they were friendly, surprisingly intellectual, and, in her opinion, probably the least prejudiced race in all of Azeroth .

The hostess finally led her to two tables near one of the high windows that overlooked the Runeweaver Square. She stopped about 8 paces away and turned around to face her. "Wait here, please," she said before spinning around and gliding over to the table on the right. Nadia could not see who was seated there, as the blood elf hostess blocked her view, but could take a guess as to who it was so she turned her attention to the other seating arrangement.

The left table seated a female Tauren and a male Night Elf who were engaged in what appeared to be a deep conversation, and Nadia could tell right away that they were not from around here. Both were wearing long robes of rich green and brown hues, nothing like the silky (and occasionally sparkly) cloaks of many mages. Their jewelry was a lot more simple too, looking as though they were carved out of wood and held together by beads. There were also strange markings on their arms and foreheads.

Druids, she concluded as her eyes zeroed in on a glowing wooden staff that leaned against the wall. One of them, the Tauren, looked up and made eye contact with her, and the Night Elf followed suit. Nadia nodded politely at them both, unsure how to greet them as one or the other might not understand Common or Orcish. Thankfully, the Tauren returned the gesture and turned back to her companion, apparently having lost interest in the half-human. The Night Elf stared curiously for a moment longer, looking her up and down with glowing amber eyes before nodding at her once and then going back to his conversation.

Nadia turned away from the pair, having no reason to continue looking at them. Instead, she focused on the right table that seated a very, very familiar mage. The blood elf hostess had moved out of the way enough for her to see him in all his glory. His robes were simple yet still fine, with a deep blue color and detailed embroidery. In front of him were multitudes of important looking documents with different seals and fancy script, as well as a quill and inkwell.

He had been saying something to the hostess when he suddenly looked her way and gave a wide smile, beckoning for her to come toward him with a hand. As Nadia approached, he dismissed the hostess with a 'thank you', and the blood elf bowed to both of them before sashaying off to tend to another patron.

"Ah, here you are!" Khadgar declared while rising from his seat to greet his apprentice, "I was beginning to think you had stood me up."

"The snow started falling heavier and slowed down my walk," Nadia explained with a bow.

The man waved his hand dismissively, "No worries, no worries, go ahead and take a seat. And haven't I told you that you don't have to bow to me? I'm not one of those masters."

The girl shrugged with a half-smile as she pulled out a chair, "I know, but it's a force of habit at this point." She couldn't help but glance at the papers scattered about on Khadgar's side of the table as she sat down. Many of them were familiar; some of them the documents she had retrieved for him herself. The rest were in the archmage's own hand and were either lists or random blurbs of text. And after giving them a once over, they all had one common theme: matrimony.

Oh...no….

The anxiety she had felt earlier began crippling back in, "Um, Khadgar - ."

"Pardon the mess," he interrupted smoothly as he took a seat, "I've been doing some rather interesting work, as you can see, and can't seem to stop."

"It's fine. Khadgar - ."

"I promise, though, that you'll have my undivided attention. However, you must permit me to look away every now and then to keep writing, yes?"

"Sure, but Khadgar - ."

"Regardless, I swear that my work will not take away from today! It is, after all, all about you."

"Okay, but...wait, what?"

"Why, today is all about you of, course." He took another sip of tea from the china teacup that Nadia hadn't noticed until now and looked at her as though he had given her the most obvious piece of information in the world, "That's the whole reason I invited you out for tea."

"It is?"

The archmage sighed and set down his drink, "I realize that I have not been giving you proper attention these past weeks due to...reasons. It is my duty as your master to teach you and help you improve your skills, and for half of this month I have failed you in that regard. I invited you here today as a chance to catch up with you and also as a way to apologize for my recent inadequacy."

The bubble of anxiety popped, and Nadia instantly felt more at ease. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and felt her shoulders relax. Her heart warmed at her master's confession, "You didn't have to do that; I understand that you get busy."

"Perhaps, but it's far too late to take it back now seeing as we are already here," he chuckled and brought the teacup back to his lips, and Nadia smiled back. He produced a menu out from under his piles of papers and handed it to her, "Now, order whatever you like; it's on me! Have you ever had the tea cakes here? Oh wait, you've never been, have you? Anyway, they're not as good as the the ones you make, but I suppose they get the job done. Or you could get a muffin; still not as good as yours, but they add this special spice…."

Nadia let out a content sigh as she scanned the list of pastries and teas and listened to Khadgar prattle on about all the different options and then compare them to others. While he could be unbelievably long winded in certain situations, usually where dessert and magic was concerned, it was nice to be in his presence after not even seeing him for such a long time. After letting the archmage go on for a bit more and then arguing with him that chocolate was far superior to vanilla, she finally ordered. As they waited for her order to arrive, the master and apprentice chatted casually about all that he had missed, and for a while Nadia felt reassured that her suspicions were silly.

About 5 minutes later, the waitress came back with Nadia's pastry and tea. She didn't remember what either were called, but the menu had mentioned that both had honey so they seemed like tasty yet safe choices. Both of them certainly smelled and looked amazing, and she was taking a cautious sip of her tea when -

Khadgar suddenly leaned forward with a twinkle in his eye and said, "So, Nadia, tell me about yourself."

Maybe it was the tone of his statement, or maybe it was the twinkle in his eye. It could have even been that her tea had been just a little bit too hot, but she choked on it the moment he spoke those words.

"You - I - What?" She sputtered as she stared at him incredulously.

"It's come to my attention," he began while shuffling through some of the documents set before him, "that I hardly know anything about you. And if there's one thing I hate it's not knowing. You've been my apprentice for over 3 years, and yet I don't even know what your favorite color is."

"It's red…."

Oh, the irony. "See, not too hard. I feel bad for not knowing more about you since you have done such an excellent job as my apprentice and more. It only seems fair that I know at least a few things about you, yes?

Nadia shrugged and poked the pastry in front of her with a fork. The nervousness and suspicion she felt were slowly creeping back, "I suppose - ."

"I wouldn't want to get you the wrong kind of present for your birthday or Winter Veil."

"You've never gotten me a present for my birthday or Winter Veil," she deadpanned.

Khadgar blinked, apparently caught a little off guard, before looking back down at his papers and writing once more, "Well, it's never too late to start. So I hope you won't mind answering a few questions."

Nadia rolled her eyes, somewhat fed up with his ambiguity, "Well, no, but - ."

"Excellent, let's get started then." He didn't look up from his papers and jotted down a few more notes, "I already asked you what your favorite color is, so what is your favorite food?"

She hesitated; why was he insisting on asking her things all of a sudden? The warning bells started going off in the back of her head once more: this was how a lot of scandals between masters and their apprentices got started.

First, they would be seen out in public places together more often. Then, they would attend more social functions together as a pair. And after that, well, it was only a matter of time before some unsuspecting person caught them together in a broom closet or guest room. Many apprentices would lose their positions and had to find new work, others ended up having to leave Dalaran altogether and hope that rumors didn't reach the mage communities in either Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms. Many masters went without any backlash at all (if they were male, that is; which sucked and was totally unfair in her opinion), but would have trouble finding any new, good apprentices afterward.

Please, please don't let this be what I think it is.

"...Everything." She finally squeaked, though it came out more like a question than and answer.

Khadgar nodded and continued writing without looking back up, "Interesting. And, your favorite beverage, perhaps?"

"Um, I don't know, wine?"

"Favorite song?

"Uh…."

The back and forth went on like this for half an hour. The archmage would ask a question, some normal and others bizarre beyond comprehension, and the apprentice would answer to the best of her ability. However, at exactly 31 minutes, Nadia began to notice something about Khadgar. Whenever he asked her a question, there would be a delay between her answer and his writing. He would stop scribbling down whatever until she answered and then go right back to jotting things down. Then it hit her.

Oh. Gods. Is he taking notes?!

Her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat as panic gripped the crossbreed's chest. What the hell was he doing?! Enough was enough, she had to get to the bottom of this.

Khadgar, on the other hand, was totally oblivious to Nadia's suspicion and was borderline giddy. Things were going well; better than well, actually, they were going perfectly! At this rate, he could have the girl's profile completed by the end of the week...after adding a few signature Khadgar tweaks and having a secret portrait commissioned for whoever he would call in to gussy her up before the official one to send to both factions, of course.

All there was left to do before he could set his plan in motion was ask one final, crucial question.

"And, lastly, are you one-hundred percent single?"

There was a pause, and Khadgar waited patiently for her answer but none came. He looked up from his paper to find Nadia staring at him with her chin tilted up and an eyebrow raised. Her skeptical eyes glanced down at the parchment he had been writing on and narrowed.

"Are you...taking notes?"

"...No." He had hesitated, and the man realized his mistake immediately when Nadia's eyes flashed. Uh oh…

Her hand lashed out and swiped the paper from him so quickly that he wouldn't have been able to keep it out of her grasp if the universe had given him a few hours to prepare. He watched as her eyes scanned his writing and began to think of the best lie he could fabricate in order to quell Nadia's now obvious suspicion and keep her from digging any further into the matter….

Khadgar flinched as the skeptical glint in Nadia's eye turned to a blazing, hazel fire of outrage.

...Also, to do damage control on the bomb that was about to go off in his face.

"Oh, for - you are taking notes!" Her voice was a low hiss as she shook the paper around for emphasis, "Why are you taking notes?!"

"Nadia, try to calm down - ."

"No," she ground out through clenched teeth, "I will not calm down! Why should I? For weeks you've been obsessing about weddings and marriage, a-and shutting yourself up in your study with lawyers, and then you ask me out for tea."

"Now, what's wrong with - ."

"And then you ask me all sorts of weird and pretty personal questions while we're at 'tea' and then, out of the blue, you ask me if I'm single!"

"Well, I can see how that would - ."

"At first I thought I was just overreacting when I thought this was a date, maybe I was just paranoid because of all the other scandals that have happened. But now I see that you've been taking notes this whole time, and I don't know what to think!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Khadgar held up his hands defensively and couldn't help but chuckle a little, "This isn't date. Well, at least not entirely. Allow me to explain."

"Yeah, do that," his apprentice crossed her arms and continued to glare at him through narrowed eyes.

Khadgar paused as he put together a fake explanation in his head. He didn't want to lie to her, but he knew if she found out before he tied all the loose ends to make the process as painless for her as possible she would probably panic and refuse even the idea of his plan. The archmage felt bad about keeping her in the dark in regards to something so important that would directly affect her life, but he knew this was the best decision.

So, he lied.

"Well, you remember at the beginning of this month when the invitation for that wedding came, yes? You just seemed to happy to hear about a wedding and a real marriage, and it occurred to me that in all the years you've been my apprentice, I don't think you've ever once been in a relationship."

Her face softened, and the look of anger and suspicion turned to confusion. She seemed to be calming down, so he kept going.

"And you're just such a talented, interesting young woman that I had to wonder why that was; even with your, well, heritage."

It was a low blow to mention her pedigree, and both of them knew it. Khadgar saw the slight hurt in her eyes, but kept pressing on.

"Anyway, I thought I would take you out today, sort of like a date but not really...let's call it a two-thirds date, so that I might try to set you up with someone after this. I've always wanted to play matchmaker, and I just want to see you happy, Nadia. From what I can tell, you've been alone for quite a while and won't be my apprentice forever, and I just want to know you will be happy after your time with me is over."

This part was completely true. Nadia was advancing through magic with unprecedented speed and skill, meaning that she would gradually become more and more independent with her studies. There was a part of him that recognized this, and apart from all his schemes he did want to see her happy and supported after her time with him came to an end.

It also seemed to do the trick as Nadia's shoulders visibly relaxed and she lowered her hackles. She sighed as she uncrossed her arms and folded her dainty hands on the table, "I wish you had just told me what you were up to. I've been freaking out for most of this month, worrying about what you've been up to. I still think what you're doing is kind of weird, but kinda sweet too."

His apprentice offered him a smile, "But you don't have to worry about me; I know how to take care of myself, and I'm not totally alone like you think I am."

Khadgar relaxed as it seemed Nadia's anger had been abated. He smirked and picked up his teacup, "Perhaps, but no one can completely take care of themselves alone, you know."

Nadia snorted in good humor and took a bite out of her pastry, "No, I guess not. But you're one to talk, I don't see you going on any dates or anything."

"Hey now, I get mine."

There was a pause before both of them dissolved into raucous laughter. The café had filled up with more people by now, and some of them looked over at the rambunctious pair near the window. Many just shrugged and looked away when they saw it was Archmage Khadgar and his apprentice Nadia. Their antics had become quite commonplace in Dalaran society.

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me twice," Nadia said as she reigned in her laughter, "I know how popular you can be at parties; you flirt with everyone and everything in sight. But you're still right, no one should really be alone. So…."

Khadgar grinned, "So?"

"So, I guess you can try to set me up."

"Really?" Oh, this was excellent.

"I mean, sure, why not." She blushed and glanced down at the table sheepishly, "It would be nice to try and date and flirt for once…."

"Wonderful!" He said this with such gusto that Nadia jumped in her seat. She watched as he scribbled one last thing on the paper before adding it to a rather large stack of documents and pushing said stack over to her, "Everything is all set and ready, all that's left is for my secretary to rewrite all this so it's actually legible."

Nadia's lips pursed and her brow quirked up again, "You mean me."

"Well, you are the only one who can understand my handwriting." She sighed and accepted the stack, and Khadgar made a shooing motion with his hand, "Now, scram! Get that finished as soon as possible."

"Wait, you mean now?"

"Yes, I mean now! Love waits for no one! The sooner you finish copying, the sooner I can begin my search. So, shoo!"

"You're ridiculous," she muttered but stood up nonetheless with the stack in her arms and began to make her way to the exit, "I'll see you at home, I guess."

"Don't wait up!"

He waved to her retreating figure until she had gotten her coat back and was out the door. Once she was out of sight, the archmage hummed and began to pull out another sheet of blank paper. He thought it was funny that the world didn't yet realize what he had accomplished today. Now that all the silly paperwork was out of the way, the real work could begin….

At the table in front of him, the Tauren and Night Elf druid got up from their seats, pulled them around to Khadgar's table, and sat themselves down. The Kaldorei's face was impassive as usual, but the Tauren had a borderline sweet smile on her face.

"We were under the impression," the Night Elf began, "that she knew about these negotiations. Do you not think it unwise to keep her in the dark for too long."

"What I do and do not tell my apprentice is my decision to make," he replied evenly.

"She does seem like a fine young woman, though," the Tauren commented while playing with one of the beads on her necklace. "However, I am still curious as to why she is your choice for this endeavor."

"It's simple really: I trust her and believe she can get the job done. Nadia has never disappointed me before."

The Kaldorei tilted his head to the side, "If you are so confident in your student, why do you come to us for assistance?"

"Listen, I have contacted you two specifically because you were originally of the Alliance and Horde before joining the Cenarion Circle. You changed your allegiance because you did not believe in the horrendous animosity between the two factions and instead wish to help heal this broken world. I honestly believe that, with my plan, we can end the senseless fighting and focus our attention and resources elsewhere to benefit all of Azeroth. If the Circle were to throw in its support, having the backing of a respected faction on both sides could move mountains! If you don't think this possible, then you may leave and forget this conversation ever happened. But, if there is any part of you that wishes to at least try to bring peace to your people…."

The two druids exchanged glances, and Khadgar waited patiently for a response. After the longest time, they finally looked back at him and smiled.

"How can the Cenarion Circle be of assistance?"


	4. Part 3: Some Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vol'jin goes into denial...

He was asleep.

Or, maybe he was awake.

Although, it was very possible it was neither, as the mirage-like scene around him suggested otherwise.

He was back on the Echo Isles, he could tell that much. The sound of the sea mixed in with the music of the breeze brought along by the winds over the ocean. It was nighttime, or perhaps very early in the morning. The darkness was illuminated by torches that lined up along the sand, fire pits that steadily burned here and there, and lanterns and candles that glowed in the windows of huts. Palm trees waved in the breeze, and people were out and about despite the apparent time of day, their voices blending into the aforementioned noises.

Everything however, even sound, was warped.

The world around him shifted and turned like heat waves in the desert, the only solid thing being the sand beneath his feet. He could not make out any of the people who walked about as they were nothing more than faceless shadows. They moved in a way that looked as though they were constantly speeding up and slowing down again, like the wings of a hummingbird. Sounds and voices were muffled in a way that made it sound as though he were underwater somehow. There were no stars or clouds, not even the moon was out, making it impossible to tell where the horizon split the dark sky and land. Though, strangely, the sand gave off light as though there were something in the sky reflecting off it after all.

Feminine laughter suddenly cut through the air, and all other sounds faded into the background until it was almost the only noise altogether. He could not tell how many there were though there were two that he could distinctly make out. One was deeper and slower, sounding more like a hum than a laugh; the other was much more high pitched and girlish.

Ayida and Erzulie, he thought while slowly glancing around. He could not see them but could feel them watching with obvious amusement. Never before had he interacted with either loa; they weren't exactly in his range of expertise. But he supposed that didn't matter anymore, as they must have sought him out for some reason.

There was a shift in the air and the loa began to laugh again, louder than before, as if sensing his confusion. He clenched his hands; they were the only thing he could move apparently, and he growled in frustration. Many other loa that he recognized from his past were joining in now, clearly amused by his struggle.

And then, all of a sudden, they stopped. The world went quiet as one by one the fires and torches went out. Trees, huts, people, the sea, and more all faded into the night until all that was left were him and the practically glowing sand on which he stood. He suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable standing there in that vast, barren expanse of gold and black. A tense silence followed, as though both troll and loa were waiting for someone to make the first move.

"Can I do it now?"

Ah, so it would be the loa to make the first move. This voice was higher pitched and more...excitable. Erzulie, most likely. The troll listened curiously as the hummed laughter from before caught his ears.

"Not yet," the other voice replied, lower than the first but still very feminine. Ayida.

"Oh, but dis is gonna to be so much fun. I want ta start now!"

"Patience, sista. Be like dis one, who has waited so long. Too long, really. Dat's why we be helpin' him."

Well, this was new. He, a Shadow Hunter, had always considered himself a loyal servant of the loa, keeping his end of the bargain and giving credit where credit was due. Almost never was he the subject of ire. Or, in this case, the subject of seemingly unwarranted and most certainly suspicious 'help'.

The loa, all of them present, began to laugh again. Different giggles and chortles of all tones and pitches invaded his hearing one after another, after another until a cacophony of cackles was all there was. It almost became overwhelming, but they stopped again as quickly as they had started.

It was bizarrely silent after that; as though they were still staring at him, waiting for him to do something interesting, like speak for once. He worked his jaw and tried to open it, but found that he could not. There was snickering, and he groaned to himself as some of the present spirits began to titter once more.

Eventually, they stopped, and he felt their presences fade one at a time until Ayida and Erzulie were the only two left. They both seemed to be regarding him with what felt like intense curiosity and anticipation. Anticipation for what? He didn't know.

"Ya shouldn't 'ave waited so long, son of Sen'jin." Ayida's tone became slightly more serious, "Sure, you got wars to fight and people to lead, but dere be time for otha things, too. Many, many loa be pleased wit ya so far."

Erzulie began to giggle again, "Except for us!"

"Yes, except for us."

Well, this was most certainly interesting. Interesting, because while it was nice to know he was doing his duty for the most part he had no idea that two loa that he'd never really interacted with, well, cared. He wasn't exactly the best candidate to serve them.

"Ha! On the contrary, Shadow Hunter." Apparently, his thoughts were not his own anymore, as Erzulie seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. He could feel her looking him up and down, examining him with humored interest, "Ya line be one of da best; it only makes sense for us to want ta continue it. Having a woman ain't gonna hurt, either. So, get out dere, an' start doin' ya duty to us. Da more troll kind dere be, da bettah off everyone is, ya? Understand what I be saying?"

He did, somewhat, but that didn't make this any easier for him to grasp.

"Now, wake up."

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

The next thing he heard was silence. Not the whooshing silence like being underwater, but the kind of silence that could only be caused by the still air of a lonely night.

Vol'jin opened his eyes. Instead of the mirage like dream he had been a part of only a few moments ago, he saw now only the empty ceiling of his expansive room. For a moment, he just lay there, taking in the silence.

He didn't want to think about what had just happened; anything but that. So, he would think about anything else instead.

He thought about the ceiling above him and how it looked very empty. Back on the Isles, most ceilings were decorated with tapestries, long pieces of fabric looped and woven together, and hanging charms or other ornaments. He glanced to the left and thought about how he could tell it was very early in the morning by the way the sky was slightly lit up outside the window. The time of day was that horrible in-between of being too early to rise and too late to go back to sleep, which meant he was doomed to lie there and distract himself for at least another hour.

He turned his head from one side to the other, unable to make out much in the darkness except for the outlines of some pieces of furniture and some scant decorations and began thinking about them.

For as long as this had been his personal room, there still wasn't anything personal about it really. He wondered why that was and then decided to try and correct it if he ever had the time. Or, was that really the issue? There had been opportunities in the past to refurbish the Warchief's quarters not too long after the Siege, and to an extent the whole Hold, but he'd always passed them up. He supposed he just wasn't very good at it.

Apparently, it required a certain kind of creativity that he lacked, evident by his failure to design the interior of his own home back on the Echo Isles. Oh, he'd tried multiple times, but each attempt got him nowhere, and Zen'tabra and Vanira seemed to find joy in teasing him about it every now and then. They were always saying how his home could use a little bit of a woman's touch...

A smack broke the silence in the room as Vol'jin's palm connected with his forehead. Here he was trying to distract himself, when all he had accomplished was going in a full circle of thought. He had started his thoughts on taking a woman and then ended on the exact same topic. It seemed that the effort of trying to rid his mind of marriage was in vain.

He let out a slow, long breath and slid one arm behind his head in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. The troll glanced out the balcony again and was disappointed to find that the sun hadn't risen any more in the past few minutes. Meaning, there was still a significant gap between his current situation and work; also known as, his most recent distraction from...this.

But is "dis", exactly? An' would it really be that bad?

"Yes," he whispered in the darkness, his voice was so quiet that he almost hadn't heard it.

It wasn't that Vol'jin had never considered marriage before. In fact, there were a few times he had almost conceded to everyone's desires. But every time, he always came to the same conclusion.

If he were to take a wife, he could never be a good husband. No matter how much she might've fit his fantasy of what the perfect woman was, or how she would say she understood and that it was alright, or how she might always stand by him, or how she might simply be good to him, he could never be a proper mate.

The duties he had before were almost child's play compared to the new responsibilities he'd taken on. Now, he loved what he did, there was no doubt about that. Serving the Horde in one of its greatest capacities was both an honor and a privilege, and he faced each day's new and old challenges and rewards head on. It was enlightening and invigorating; unfortunately, it left little room for much else, even personal upkeep.

It had been months since he had been able to take a day for himself. His sleeping schedule had become completely unpredictable, as well as his eating schedule. Which, now that he thought about it, made him wonder if he had eaten that night. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly. It was a hollow sound that made him feel empty inside in more ways than one and reminded him just how still the night was once it finally quieted down.

I guess not, he thought while making a mental note to make time for breakfast for once. Vol'jin waited for the empty feeling in his core to go away...it didn't. He groaned and turned to lie on his side, now facing the balcony instead of the dark ceiling, trying to will the hollowness to vanish. It didn't work; in fact, the more he thought about the worse it seemed to get. The emptiness inside him had infected his entire stomach now, slowly slithering its way into his chest like some snake until it finally wrapped around his heart. It constricted and suffocated the beating organ to the point where it was actually becoming harder to breathe.

Now slightly irritated with himself at what he thought to be weakness, the shadow hunter snarled and threw himself onto his other side. He only succeeded in casting himself out of the few rays of dim light from the terrace and further into darkness. He didn't like the hollow feeling that was gripping him, not at all. It made him notice...things.

Like, how the room looked a lot more void of a certain something, a certain touch, a certain spark of life. And, how his bed felt too spacious and cold with just him in it. And how the only breathing and heartbeat he could hear were his own…

Be dis how the loa mean to help me? Ta fill dis...emptiness?

Having a wife would have its perks, he admitted to himself and himself alone. His mouth flexed into a smirk around his tusks as he thought about all the unobtainable benefits of taking a mate. Her things would take up the eerie space in the room, filling it with personal items instead of darkness and cold. His bed would be warm, he would have someone to talk to and confide in on those lonely nights when he just could not sleep. To have warmth, a sweet scent, a soft pulse, life beside him would be -

He stopped right there. Turning to face the window again, he was relieved to see that the sun had lit up the sky almost enough to where he could begin his day without causing further worry or suspicion in his comrades. He licked his dry lips and continued to suppress his wishful thinking, as going further down that path would lead to no good. The hollow feeling in his belly had faded when he thought about the woman who did not and could not exist, though, if only for a moment. But now it was back, much more constricting and empty than before that now it felt different. It no longer resembled a juvenile feeling, something to be easily ignored.

It was now an ache. A pain. A need. Those were not so easy to ignore.

Vol'jin stared silently out the terrace and into Orgrimmar. He would ignore it; he had to. He was the Warchief. He didn't have aches, or pains, and most certainly not "needs". He wasn't free to go after his desires with reckless abandon, or find a wife, or treat them with the care and respect a dutiful husband was supposed to. He didn't have that luxury.

Maybe the loa would intervene, but for whose benefit he could not ascertain. Not his, and most certainly not this hypothetical mate. If they had someone in mind already, he sincerely hoped that they would leave her be. Leave her be to find someone else, warm their bed, fill their home with her trinkets and her scent and her heartbeat.

Maybe they would not intervene, and they were only teasing, as loa tended to do, and she would be free of being tied to someone who could never treat her right, who carried with him the burdens of an entire faction...as well as his own.

And as he waited for this wretched morning to finally begin, he tried desperately to convince himself that those were his wishes and no others.

He wished to accomplish lying to himself that he didn't need a companion, and that it wasn't cold, and that his rooms weren't too empty. But most of all, he wished for this nauseating emptiness inside of him to stop getting worse and fade away...

It didn't.


	5. Part 4: Be Our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Khadgar has the most curious company...

So far, today was turning out to be a perfect day, in Nadia's opinion.

It had been 3 days since tea with Khadgar, and things had pretty much returned to normal. Well, as normal as they could be with the Archmage. He still spent most of his time cooped up in his study but had made more time for lessons and lectures...actually, she didn't really miss the lectures. The apprentice hadn't seen her master all morning, but an entire plate of muffins had vanished a few hours ago, so she knew he was fine. And she felt a little more comfortable with his bizarre disappearances now that she knew what he was up to for the most part.

Granted, it was still kind of strange. She really didn't know why he was so intent on finding her a guy. It was weird but also sweet. And, it seemed to give him something to do that he truly enjoyed. So she guessed he could keep up his silly little matchmaking search, even though she doubted he would find anyone for her.

Besides, it gave her more spare time to pick up some of the hobbies she'd neglected these past few months, like baking and tailoring and reading and hand-to-hand combat. A strange combination, maybe, but they took her back to her roots.

And so, that was what she had been up to for most of the day: sitting in the parlor and enjoying a good book. She had been curled up in a blanket next to the fire ever since the sun had started to rise. The whole house was quiet, save for the crackling hearth and occasional noise from the streets outside making its way inside, and Nadia had almost reached the end of her book. Ah, yes, today was turning out to be absolutely -

"Nadiaaaaaaaa!"

Never mind.

The apprentice snapped her book shut and sighed. Why was it that Khadgar always seemed to appear at the most inopportune moments? She untangled herself from the warm blanket and folded it back up before exiting the parlor to look for the Archmage.

Nadia didn't have to search for too long, as Khadgar found her first. He was descending the winding staircase that led to the upper floors and saw her walk into the foyer from above.

"Oh, good, there you are!" He leaned over the banister and waved some papers in the air, "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"You just called out my name," she stared up at him curiously from two floors below. The way he was bent over the railing and flailing about made him look like an excited child.

"Details, details," he continued winding his way down the stairs, the papers still raised in the air. "Anyway, I have the most wonderful news!"

Nadia watched as he hopped over the bottom step and swaggered over to her across the marble floor, "Really? What's happened; did those emissaries finally respond about that scuffle in Zangarra?"

He shook his head 'no', but was smiled despite that, "Nope, even better!"

"Even better? You've been waiting for a response for weeks; what could possibly be better?"

He held up the papers in his hand right in front of her face, as though they had all the answers, "We're having guests!"

"...I'm sorry, what?"

"Guests," he repeated with his smile still in place, "lots of guests. Not all at once, of course, but these next few months are going to be very busy for us!"

Nadia ran her fingers over her lips in hesitation, "Khadgar...I'm not entirely sure I follow what you're saying."

"No need for that, just focus on getting the house ready. You know: restocking the pantry, polishing anything that should be shiny, blah blah, and such. Tonight's dinner is casual, but I still hope you'll prepare something worthy of a small banquet. You're much better at that sort of thing. Now, off you go, please! We're expecting the first batch tonight!"

"Tonight?!"

"Yes, tonight! When else would they start coming?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nadia trailed quickly after Khadgar, who had turned around and started going back up the stairs, "why are we getting guests all of a sudden?! And why so many? And what about the correspondence?"

"Oh, that old thing?" He didn't turn around to look at her as he climbed each step, "I sent new letters telling them that is doesn't matter anymore. Do you think you could make one of those cakes everyone loves?

"What!? You sent letters to tell them it doesn't matter anymore? Why!?"

"Well, because everyone always says that they love it whenever they eat it."

"I'm not talking about the cake - Khadgar!" she yelped as she nearly tripped over a step.

He made a sharp left onto the second floor all of a sudden, still not acknowledging her as he marched toward his office, "I should really thank you more often; do you know how many deals I've made over that cake? Hundreds. Tell me, do you put magic in it?"

"Ha-ha," she couldn't see his face, but Nadia could tell that he was smirking. "But honestly, Khadgar, why did you write to them again? I know you were really upset about Zangarra and -"

"I'm just focusing on something much more important at the moment," he finally spun around to smile at her with that grin she was honestly kind of getting more suspicious of. They had reached his office and the large double doors that came with it.

Nadia could tell by the way he had both hands behind his back that they were grasping the handles, ready to open them and disappear behind the tall oak at any moment. Meaning she only had enough time left for one question.

"Of course I'll get the house ready, but what could be so important that it's making you so happy all of a sudden?"

He pauses for a moment before opening the double doors with a wink, "It's a surprise."

And with that, the doors shut heavily...with Khadgar behind them.

His apprentice sighed and gazed at the doors for a moment longer before heading back to the stairs. Might as well get started on everything if they were going to have some impromptu strangers staying with them. Dinner wouldn't cook itself, the table had to be set, heaven knows what needed to be washed and scrubbed, like the floors and windows. Ugh, and she would have to stop by the market to pick up things for dinner and dessert before it closed…

Full disclosure: Nadia was getting kind of sick of Khadgar's surprises.

The first thing the Archmage noticed when he stepped outside his rooms and made his way downstairs was how amazing the house smelled.

He followed his nose, taking in how the place looked much better than before. The windows had been cleaned, their glass sparkling and the panes cleared of all dust. The floors had been polished too, enough where he could see his reflection in them. New candle sticks had been brought out, the vases had fresh flowers in them, and anything that had been out of place was now straightened and in order.

Khadgar instantly felt proud of his apprentice and all that she had accomplished that day so far. He was sure that she would continue to meet his expectations once his guests (who were more than guests) arrived.

He had reached the kitchen, his nose having finally led him there, and pushed through the doors. Khadgar became even more pleased to find the dinner warm and prepared, the cake as well. He didn't even have to worry about either tasting good; he knew they would.

So the house was clean, dinner was ready, and...Where was Nadia?

He almost called out to her for the second time that day but stopped when he heard shuffling coming from the dining room. He crossed the threshold of the kitchen in a few long strides, entering the other room with a dramatic swoop.

Khadgar found his apprentice, though her appearance left much to be desired.

Much of Nadia's hair had come out of its ponytail, springing out at all angles and looking like a separate entity. There were white smudges all over her face and clothes: flour maybe? The outfit she was wearing was a mess, with stains and wrinkles all over it.

Oh, this won't do.

"I didn't know what set to use, so I just took a wild guess. I hope the blue one is okay." She didn't look up as he entered and continued to straighten the cutlery, completely oblivious to her appearance, "I didn't know how many people were coming, so I just set all eight places...what?"

"Oh dear," he began while tapping a finger to his chin, "you're not going to be dressed like that for dinner, are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Khadgar didn't have a chance to answer because as soon as those words left Nadia's mouth the pounding sound of the doorknob hitting the wood of the main entrance sounded throughout the entire house. "Oh - they're early! Quick: go upstairs, clean yourself up, put on something nice, and then meet me in the foyer!"

Nadia yelped as her master began shoving her toward the servant's stairwell, "W-wait, you mean I'm joining you?"

"Well, yes! Of course! Why wouldn't you? Now, hop to it!"

With one last shove, Khadgar sent Nadia tripping through the one hinged door that swung back and forth when you opened it. She regained her balance and glared at the spot she had been pushed through; only the swinging door had already closed, so a perfectly good glower had been wasted. The apprentice huffed one last time before running up the servant's staircase to her room.

"Why does he always tell me things at the very last minute?" she muttered to herself when she reached her own room three floors up. Totally out of breath, she flung open the door and immediately set to work fixing herself up. She stripped herself out of her dirtied clothes, tossing them onto her bed and wrapping herself into a robe.

There wasn't enough time to bathe, as the mysterious guests were already here. So, she had to make do with brushing all the flour off her skin and combing and fluffing it out of her hair. After twisting all of it back into a braid, she quickly slid on her one good dress and shoes. The crossbreed examined herself in the mirror.

Nadia had never been particularly pleased with her appearance. Ever since childhood, she had considered herself ugly. The combined features of Troll and Human had done her a disservice, giving her bronzed skin and hazel eyes combined with long ears, tusks, and dark black fingernails that were more like claws. Clothes had never fit her well, being tailored more for the slender, shorter Blood Elves and Humans of Dalaran than her much taller and fuller frame. The stares and giggles had never stopped, and she doubted they ever would. As she got older, she began to care less, and focused on being known for her skills instead of her looks.

Only recently had she resolved to take an utterly neutral stance on her appearance, but she still avoided mirrors and shopping. So, when she looked at her twin in the mirror, she only gazed long enough to make sure everything was passable. She turned away almost immediately, dabbed on some simple perfume, and headed back downstairs.

As the woman descended the spiraling main staircase, she could hear Khadgar entertaining whoever had come in. He said something she couldn't make out, and they laughed; must had been a joke. As Nadia stepped down the last few steps, her master turned to look at her, as did the guests. There were two, a Night Elf and a Tauren...both of whom looked oddly familiar.

"Nadia, may I introduce Kokam Crestrider and Mordriel Shadowcrest." Khadgar gestured at the pair, who both bowed their heads down at her in acknowledgment, "They will be staying with us for the next few days. Our other guest has yet to arrive, though he should be here soon enough. Would you both like something to drink while we wait?"

The way they bowed made her recognize them immediately. "I know you," the apprentice blurted out before she had a chance to stop herself, "from the restaurant. You were there that day."

Nadia blushed immediately when she realized her outburst and that everyone was staring at her. It wasn't exactly the best first impression, but she relaxed a little when the Tauren woman - Kokam, was it? - smiled and began to chuckle.

"How pleasing it is to know that you remember us," she said while playing with her ear and bowing further. Her voice was slow paced and pleasing to hear, slightly accented and made Nadia relax even further.

The Night Elf beside her sniffed and looked the crossbreed up and down, "Honestly, I did not think you would, and I am usually not wrong."

Jeez, who peed in your moonwell? she thought while meeting his stare head on. Unfortunately, he was still one of Khadgar's guests, so she would be nice...for now. "Thank you, both of you. It is a pleasure to meet you as well," she replied in her most even voice while bowing low to both druids. As her head was bowed, another shadow joined Kokam's and Mordriel's that were being cast in the doorway.

"I hope I am not so late that I have missed the introductions?"

Nadia tilted her head up to catch a glance...and promptly choked on air.

Khadgar swept forward to greet his third and most important guest, "Ah, Hamuul, glad you made it! And no, you're not late, never late; no one's ever late in this house. Please, come in!"

He, along with the other two druids, who bowed quickly at the new arrival, moved away from the entrance to let him in. The Tauren male instantly became the tallest person in the room, though his presence was not horribly intimidating at all.

Nadia had only seen Hamuul Runetotem once in her life, but the stories surrounding his feats had made it all the way to Dalaran. He was a legend, being one of the most powerful and respected Druids there was. Having worked beside Malfurion Stormrage and Baine Bloodhoof to fend off various enemies in the name of Azeroth, the Tauren had made himself well known to the world for his bravery and wisdom.

Also, he was standing 4 feet in front of her.

"Oh, gosh," she breathed out while clasping her hands to her chest, "ohhhh, gosh."

He turned towards her and the woman felt her face flush. He bowed low, much lower than Nadia thought was necessary toward someone of her status, and then straightened as he looked at her with wise, gentle eyes.

"Ah, you must be Miss Nadia Ravenscroft." He took one of her hands into both of his much larger, warmer ones, "It is an honor to finally meet the young woman Khadgar has told me so much about."

Nadia's entire face turned an impressive shade of red and a goofy smile spread across her face, "A-an honor to meet me? Oh - it's an honor to meet you! I mean, you're you!"

"You flatter me," he offered her a soft smile, which made her blush intensify, "Khadgar's description of you has not done you justice." He gave her hand a soft squeeze before letting go, "I look forward to getting to know you myself this evening."

A nervous, girlish giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. A snort broke the heartfelt exchange, and Nadia's head snapped in the direction of the source. Mordriel had one hand held over his mouth, and while his eyes still held the same bored expression he'd had since walking in, there was the slightest glint of amusement.

I'm going to put a laxative in your tea after dessert, it should help dislodge that stick from your ass, she told herself as she eyed Mordriel mischievously. He noticed her staring and quirked one of his long brows up in response.

Khadgar sensed the fresh tension immediately. He moved over to his apprentice and placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her, "Ah, why don't we move this party to the dining room? I'm sure none of us want our meal to become cold."

"Alright," Nadia allowed her master to then lead her gently by the shoulder to the dining room. The three druids followed in suit, the sound of their hooves and boots echoing across the lobby.

This was sure to be an interesting meal no doubt; there would be plenty of time for tea sabotage later.

Nadia never got a chance to do anything to Mordriel's tea or exact any sort of mischief against him because dinner turned out to be a lot more than interesting.

To start with, Khadgar's guests spent a lot of time talking to her. She didn't really know why, since they were high-ranking dignitaries while she was just a crossbred apprentice, and that made her uncomfortable for some reason. They had asked her a lot of questions, ranging from the basic 'get to know you' ones to those bordering on philosophy. Whenever she answered, all three had given her their undivided attention and actually looked like they were interested in what she was saying.

Honestly, it had felt more like an interview than the "casual" dinner Khadgar said it would be.

She still had a good time though. Hamuul and Kokam were both pleasant, and Mordriel finally seemed to loosen up after dessert. She guessed Khadgar hadn't been kidding about her cake; the Night Elf had three slices alone.

After their meal, they retired to the drawing room, and it was then that Nadia felt herself stop being the center of attention. Khadgar and Hamuul had separated themselves from the others, now sitting next to each other and speaking softly about something. Kokam had settled in a nearby chair, a large, leather-bound book now in her arms. She was scribbling intently in it with a large pencil she appeared to have pulled out of thin air.

Surprisingly, the seemingly perpetually sour Mordriel had asked her to play chess. She had no idea why, but he seemed sincere about the request, so she said yes. And so, that was how Nadia Ravenscroft found herself playing an intense game of chess with Mordriel Shadowcrest.

"I must admit," he said while looking down at the board, contemplating which piece to move next, "you are doing much better than I anticipated."

Nadia glanced up at him as she picked up one of her bishops. Honestly, she was doing a lot better than she thought she would, too. Mordriel's queen had become hers a while ago, and she had taken both of his rooks and one of his knights. Granted, he'd taken some of her pieces too, but the game was becoming interesting enough that his brow was now furrowed in concentration and Kokam was glancing up every now and then to watch.

"Thank you," she responded hesitantly while making her move.

Mordriel nodded, "Yes, I did not expect someone like you to be so adept at this game."

"Do you say that because I am young or because I am a half breed?"

The sound of Kokam's pencil etching against paper came to a stop as the Tauren woman glanced up in surprise to see what would happen next. Even Khadgar and Hamuul paused for a moment before going right back to talking.

"Hmm," Mordriel thumbed his other knight before sliding it across the board, "I think it is a combination of both."

Nadia felt her eyes narrow as she thought about her next move, "Really?"

"My apologies, I meant that as a compliment."

"The backhanded kind?"

He smirked, "You seem quick to suspect me of belittling you."

"I am familiar with remarks like yours," she responded, trying to defuse the situation best she could, "so I would appreciate it, sir, if you kept your compliments to yourself."

"Or, perhaps, you should take compliments where you can find them."

The only sounds after that were the crackling of the fire and the whispers from Khadgar and Hamuul. The Druid eyed the girl, wondering how she would react next. Her face had frozen, though her hazel eyes had lit up with an angry blaze. They were the only indication of her well subdued rage.

She flexed her fingers before stiffly picking up her queen and plunking it down only a few spaces away from Mordriel's king.

"Check."

To her annoyance, the Night Elf began to chuckle, "You are angry. It shows, even though you try to hide it."

"So?"

"So, I shall make you a deal." A crooked smile spread across his face as he thumbed one of his pawns, "If you win this game, then I shall cease with my compliments."

Nadia eyed him with suspicion, "And what happens if you win?"

"Then you play me again tomorrow and every day after until you finally best me, and my compliments continue."

"...Fine."

Mordriel chuckled again before gracefully flicking his hand to pick up a piece and slide it across the board. He maintained eye contact with Nadia the whole time, not looking down at the board once, as he made his move. "Checkmate," he said while leaning back in his seat with an air of satisfaction. The eyes of the girl opposite him widened and she looked down at the board. It was, indeed, checkmate, her king being trapped in one spot. She sighed and her shoulders slumped, but other than that she showed no other signs of disappointment. The Night Elf's brow went up on his forehead, "Strange; you do not seem particularly upset about this development."

"I am no stranger to failure and disappointment," she muttered while still gazing at the game board, "what time shall we meet for our next game tomorrow?"

"Whatever time suits you best."

Nadia mentally scolded herself as she dried the last of the silverware. How could she have possibly thought to beat someone at a game they have probably been playing for hundreds of years? She should have been able to tell he was up to something by the way he had been smiling to himself. But why would he even make a bet to play with her again?

"To laugh at you again, most likely," she mumbled out loud as she put the final piece of cutlery back into the case and shut the lid.

"On the contrary, I wish to play you again because that was the best game of chess I've had in decades."

The woman raised her head to find Mordriel standing off in the door frame, "Can I help you?"

"Ah, no, I came to…" he trailed off and shifted his feet from one foot to the other. It was the first time all night he showed signs of being anything other than calm and collected, "Do you require any assistance?"

"No," she rose and put the case back into the cabinet drawer behind her. Even though her back was to Mordriel, she could feel his discomfort increase.

"Oh…"

"Does anyone want more tea or something?"

"No, we're fine."

"Then will you please leave me be," she turned back around to face him, "I don't really want to talk to you right now."

"Yes...no...I mean," he took a deep breath and stepped further into the room, "I am told that my personality can be...trying. And while I have absolutely no intention of apologizing for who I am, I hope that you will be patient with me."

Nadia stared at him incredulously, "Did Hamuul or Khadgar send you in here to 'apologize'?"

"...Perhaps."

"Get out."

"Wait, please," he strode towards her, but stopped short when he saw her stiffen up, "they did send me to you, but I honestly mean what I say. My actions to you were unwarranted, and for that I apologize. Understand, though, that my experiences with most crossbreeds are not pleasant, so my suspicion of you is not unjust."

"Most does not mean all. I'm sorry for your bad experiences, but that doesn't mean you can just treat me however you want. I am not them."

"No, you most certainly are not," he bowed and turned to leave while giving her a quick glance over his shoulder, "Have a good night, Miss Ravenscroft."

Nadia stared at his back as he left until he vanished around the corner. There was something in his tone that made it hard to tell what he meant when saying what he did, and that put her on edge for some reason.

Tomorrow's chess game would certainly be interesting.

"While I trust your methods, Mordriel, I must ask if you're trying to ruin all my plans before anything actually happens."

The Night Elf in question settled further back into the drawing room's couch, "My goal is the same as yours, Khadgar. I desire peace just as much as every person in here."

Hamuul hummed as he stood and stroked his long beard, "Just take heed to maintain your course. We cannot risk you getting carried away with this one; she is not afraid of baring her claws when feeling threatened."

"Do you have what I requested, Kokam?" Khadgar asked, changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

"Yes, Archmage." The druid gently handed him the book she had been preoccupied with all evening. Kokam then flipped open to a certain page and pointed to what she had recently etched in it, "I sketched two, just as you wanted."

Khadgar examined the two sketches of his apprentice. One was of her looking down with hooded eyelids and somber expression, the other was of her smiling off at something in the distance. Kokam had done an excellent job capturing her likeness and, most importantly, her beauty. While they were not the professional, sit-down paintings he wanted so badly, they would serve more than well as pre-images of Nadia for the Alliance and Horde before more grandiose ones were to be commissioned.

"Splendid job as usual, Kokam." With a flick of his wrist, Khadgar split the paper in two, each sketch now its own piece. He picked up both and held them out to Hamuul, "Pick your poison, Archdruid. Which image shall you use to woo your Warchief?"

Khadgar's guest of honor considered for a moment before accepting the one of her without the smile, "I believe both capture the girl's essence. However, it is my Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof's approval that I seek first. His support is one of the two that will matter most in the early stages and the later."

The Archmage folded his hands together and settled back in his seat, "And who is this second source of support?"

"Why, the one who appointed the Warchief. I believe we can win him over swiftly and surely if we approach this the correct way."

"Then, by all means, pass on this information to him as well," he declared with a chuckle. Khadgar reached over to the table beside him and produced two medium sized parcels. He handed one to Hamuul and the other to Mordriel along with the other sketch of Nadia, "You know what to do next?"

Both druids nodded and accepted the packages. Khadgar settled in his chair once more as he watched the two slip them into the inner pockets of their robes.

"I thank you both for helping me as much as you have thus far, and for the help you will continue to give me throughout this endeavor," he said with sincerity. "Unfortunately, this was the easy part. Once this becomes public, not only will it become harder to maintain control over any proceedings, but those who oppose the idea of cooperation will fight this with everything they have."

"Not to mention you'll have to reveal to your apprentice that you've set her up with one of the most powerful and feared leaders of our time," Mordriel chimed in while examining his nails.

"Don't remind me…" Khadgar massaged the bridge of his nose, already envisioning that upcoming headache.

Hamuul and Mordriel saw this as their cue to leave, as both bowed and exited without another word to go and deliver their packages to Khadgar's desired recipients. The Archmage didn't really know how they would do that and make it back by morning so Nadia wouldn't be suspicious as to why two guests left without warning and without their belongings. Did they fly, or teleport in some Druid-like fashion? He supposed it didn't matter as long as they got there and made it back in one piece.

The man sat there for a moment longer before gesturing towards Kokam, who had quietly returned to her chair in the corner, "Kokam, could you prepare a letter to the Earthen Ring about - ."

"Already ahead of you," she interrupted while going back to scribbling in her book at a determined pace.

"Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite?" Khadgar remarked as he reached for a fresh piece of parchment and quill. The Tauren offered him a quick smile before focusing on her writing. The Archmage stared down at his blank paper, thinking of what to write. He took a deep breath, exhaled, dipped his quill into the ink, and began to compose:

To His Majesty, the King of Stormwind…


	6. Part 5: Fool's Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Baine Bloodhoof receives a strange request...

Baine Bloodhoof was beginning to like Orgrimmar again.

This was the first thought to pass through his mind as he passed through the threshold of Grommash Hold. The two guards at either side saluted as he walked through, and he took a moment to nod in acknowledgement before moving on. Even though he had been here for a week on more grating business, the Tauren leader didn’t even feel annoyed because he was just so happy to be back.

It was a great accomplishment, liking the place again, considering all that had transpired in the great city these past few years. Following the murder of his father, things only seemed to go downhill during Garrosh’s time as Warchief. The Siege of Orgrimmar had been the icing on the cake; the damage done to the capital had almost brought about its irreversible undoing. Though they had been able to rebuild, having to witness and take part in the all-or-nothing assault on the city he and his father had once helped strengthen had taken its toll on him.

It had been terrible for morale all around, really. For many months there had been a heavy fog of melancholy hanging over the entire population. Even the more resilient civilians and leaders had been affected as well. The more repairs got underway and completed, the more the fog began to fade away, but Baine doubted anyone would ever truly forget that day.

However, this past year had taken a turn for the better. Through careful planning, the Horde had managed to bring back a sense of unity and strength that had been missing. It had been the little things that had managed to make it a success; more funding set aside for food banks, restoring people’s homes first rather than centers of command, providing civilians easier access to fresh water, etc. Doing more for the people and seeing the city rebound and expand made Baine proud to be a part of the Horde once again.

Walking through the halls of the Hold only reminded him of his reinstated pride. Ever since the Draenor campaign began, spoils of victory, artifacts, and general souvenirs that had been claimed by the Horde had been set up on display within the main entrance.

What had started out as a simple gesture of appreciation had snowballed into something much bigger than anyone could have anticipated. Soldiers, spies, civilians, and even commanders began a sort of competition to see who could collect the most. Not only was it a confidence boost for both those competing for relics, but also for those back on Azeroth who got to witness the gradual accumulation of treasures. Additionally, it led to the discovery of some very valuable items (which were very welcome additions to the Horde coffers), major discoveries for the Reliquary, more negotiations with the Steamwheedle Cartel, and a better outlet for fighters than the general stronghold shenanigans.

Baine was pleasantly surprised to find that the collection had grown since he had last been here. The name of the piece and which hero had retrieved it were inscribed in a shiny plaque attached to the relic's stand. They were new, judging by the sheen of the plaques and lack of chips or scratches in the wooden podiums. As he made his way further inside and saw just that the collection had grown even more than he originally thought, the Tauren wondered briefly how Vol’jin could have requisitioned new stands and found places for them so quickly. Then he thought back to when he had congratulated the Troll on the success of his idea and remembered the sly grin that had appeared on his face.

It was entirely possible Vol’jin had anticipated and planned for the outcomes that no one else had even thought could happen. He’d done such a good job under the circumstances already. Baine wouldn’t put it past him; their new Warchief was a lot craftier than he let on.

He had been told he could find the Shadow Hunter in the training room, and as he made a right out of the main foyer, the sound of clashing blades and cheering made his ears prick up. The closer he got to the heavy set of doors at the end of the hallway, the louder the uproar became. Baine pushed open both doors, and almost regretted it immediately.

The noise that had echoed into the hall was nothing in comparison to the actual uproar that was in the room itself. The place was packed with…what appeared to be the entirety of Grommash Hold. Racks of weapons, training dummies, and other utilities had been haphazardly stacked and lined up against the walls in order to make room for everyone. The space was hot and humid from all the bodies that had packed in, and the smell of metal and sweat hung heavily in the air. Baine recognized warriors, servants, and elites among the sea of people who had crowded around the sparring pit.

He began to push his way through, which was made easier by those who recognized him and graciously made way, though a majority of the crowd was preoccupied by the fight. Most were yelling encouragements at the opponents, while a few bickered at each other over who was winning; the Chieftain could even spot some making bets. Those cheering and springing about jostled him as he got closer to the side of the pit; it must be an intense match.

Baine looked around as he edged closer toward the center; there was no sign of Vol’jin yet. A few of his personal guards had been spotted here and there in the crowd, but the Warchief himself was nowhere to be seen. Strange, he was supposed to be somewhere. Unless…

The Thunderbluff leader had finally made it through the sea of people and to the outskirts of the pit when flashes of blue and green suddenly sped past his line of sight. They went by him so quickly that it caused him to edge back slightly. He recovered just as fast, and couldn’t help but let a half smile spread across his lips. No wonder he hadn’t been able to find Vol’jin…

The Warchief in question was currently locked in combat with his counterpart, Rokhan. Both were wielding glaives, though it was hard to tell because they were moving at such high speeds. It was like watching a dance; one would swing, and the other would twist out of the way or intercept the blade with theirs, sparks would light up the dim room for a moment whenever metal clashed with metal, and then the process would start again. No wonder so many people had been drawn to watch; they’d probably never seen two Shadow Hunters fight each other before.

But Baine had, and he knew from experience that neither of them had the intention of letting up anytime soon. Shadow Hunters may have been wise and highly skilled, but they were also some the most competitive sorts he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not that he minded; this was probably going to be the most interesting thing the Chieftain would be exposed to in the past week. Might as well get comfortable and watch.

Vol’jin caught his eye and offered a quick nod before leaning back to avoid the swing of Rokhan’s blade. The Tauren nodded back as he, like the crowd, became fully absorbed with the match and observed calmly.

“Bloodhoof be here,” Rokhan swung again with a crooked grin on his face, “shouldn’t ya get to dat meeting with him?”

The Warchief parried as he stared down his opponent with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “An’ surrender to you? Never!”

He shifted his glaive from one hand to the other and struck at the other troll’s legs. Rokhan was forced to jump backwards and put up his defenses as Vol’jin pressed him. The Warchief took a few jabs at his opponent’s torso, which were all parried before their blades locked again. The crowd’s cheering increased when sparks ignited the air again. They began chanting the competitors’ names, more so Vol’jin’s than Rokhan’s. The towheaded troll noticed this and bit his lower lip; it was time to change tactics.

“So, Vanira told me dat she went and spoke to you the otha day,” he took an arched swing at Vol’jin’s head. The blue Troll ducked easily took a few gliding steps backwards. The concentrated look on his face remained the same, and Rokhan would have been unsure if he’d heard him over the crowd were it not for the look of wariness that crossed his features.

“So?”

“You ain’t got anything to say about it?”

“No,” the edge of his blade glinted in the light as he brought it up and carved the glaive down, making a gash in the leather armor on Rokhan’s shoulder blade when he tried to dodge. Vol’jin knew what his friend was up to, trying to get under his skin. Well, he wasn’t going to let that happen.

At the sight of the cut, the crowd began cheering louder in favor of the Warchief. Rokhan crouched down defensively as Vol’jin began to advance, “Really, not one thing ta say?”

“Not a one.”

“Well, dat’s good, means the rest o’ us can put our minds at ease. Maybe Vanira will finally get off ya back.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, sure. She an’ Zen’tabra don’t have ta worry anymore.”

“Worry?”

“Ya, worry. For some reason – an’ I don’t know why – but dey thought ya might be _lonely_.”

Vol’jin faltered. Horribly. More so than Rokhan had thought he might. His entire body went rigid, and is grip went slack, causing the swing he had taken to be off mark and unbalanced. The other Shadow Hunter saw he had hit a nerve and seized his opportunity. With a careful twist of his weapon, Rokhan disarmed his Warchief, the glaive clattering uselessly to the ground a few feet away.

The mass of spectators went silent in a mixture of awe and disbelief, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Vol’jin’s profile was hard as he looked at his fallen armament off to the side. His opponent sighed, a sound that echoed across the now silent room, as he casually tossed his glaive from one hand to the other.

“Was a good fight, mon,” Rokhan began, “thought I was gonna lose, but – ”

His words stopped short when a blur of blue and the feeling of cool metal pressed against his throat cut him off. Vol’jin had taken advantage of his friend’s open guard, drawing the dagger at his side and surging forward to hold it at Rokhan’s jugular. The look of surprise on his friend’s face was almost enough to drive away the encroaching sensation of emptiness in his gut.

“Ya thought right, mon.”

There was a beat of silence before the crowd exploded into uproar. The Warchief pulled back and sheathed his blade, extending his hand out to Rokhan as the crowd chanted his name. The Shadow Hunter eyed him for a moment before smiling and grasping his outstretched hand, “Still the best, Vol’jin. I don’t know how ya do it.”

“Practice,” he replied simply while giving Rokhan’s hand a firm shake. He let it drop as he went to retrieve his glaive from the arena floor. The crowd had died down as people began to disperse and return to their duties; it was still morning, though the dim lighting in the room suggested otherwise. There was still work to do, and the day was far from over; best to get on with it.

“An’ here I thought you might have gotten soft sittin’ behind a desk half the time.”

“Hardly.”

Rokhan wiped the sweat from his forehead as he sheathed his glaive on his back. He eyed his friend suspiciously from where he stood; Vol’jin was still oddly tense from before. He didn’t expect him to have reacted so strongly to his words, “You alright?”

The Troll sniffed in distaste at the question; he didn’t want to deal with _this_ again, “Don’t you have new recruits ta train?” He jerked a thumb at the throng of youth that had gathered over by one of the braziers. They had taken to gawking at the two Trolls in awe and gossiping amongst themselves.

The diversion seemed to do the trick, as Rokhan groaned dramatically, “I was hoping dat if I ignored ‘em, they would go away. Remind me why I’m the one that’s gotta train em?”

“They may be whelps, but dere be high potential and skill among them. Dey deserve the best, an’ da best is you.”

“Heh, flattery, nice one.” Rokhan chuckled as he shook his head, “Maybe they got skill, but all I see are a bunch o’ sniveling snots.”

Vol’jin couldn’t help but laugh as he clapped his friend on the shoulder, “Perhaps, but them snots still be yours to deal with.” He looked over towards the doors where Baine Bloodhoof stood patiently. The Tauren had remained for the end of the fight and was now waiting for the Warchief to discuss the matter he had come to address. He sighed and began to make his way over to Baine, “Now, you go an’ deal with the recruits while I go an’ deal with some Goblins.”

The Shadow Hunter snorted as he watched the Warchief make his exit, “I’ll trade ya!”

All he got in response was a chuckle and a dismissive yet friendly wave over the shoulder as Vol’jin exited the training arena with Baine.

…

“So, what be the situation with Steamwheedle?”

Baine briefly scanned over the various papers scattered on the Warchief’s desk as he settled into a chair. He didn’t know if they were related to the topic at hand or not, or if they were even official documents. Honestly, it was hard to tell what was what on the desk at all. Vol’jin, ironically, was not the most organized person when it came to his own belongings, “Well, we’ve gotten to the bottom of the mess after doing some more digging.”

“We’ve finally got da whole story?”

“Yes,” he pulled out a few papers of his own from the pocket at his side and handed them to Vol’jin, who opened them and began to read, “it would seem that the issue concerning the invalid payment from Bilgewater Cartel actually started with the Venture Company. Instead of using real gold to make their payments, they minted coins from pyrite.”

The troll opposite of him hummed in displeasure, “Fool’s gold.”

“Unfortunately,” Baine affirmed while shaking his head to show his sentiment. “The goblins then used their imitations to pay off large debts to Steamwheedle, who then used the money to trade with Bilgewater, who then unknowingly used some of it to reimburse the Horde. Venture Co. might have gotten away with this had some of the collectors from Steamwheedle not noticed the slight coloration and weight difference with the coins later on.”

“Probably because dey spend so much time around real gold,” he muttered offhandedly, “an’ where does this leave da Horde?”

“Frankly, nowhere. We, along with many other third parties, are just collateral damage. This is mostly an issue with the Trade Coalition, considering they were the ones who got the two largest amounts. We’ll receive compensation in due time, but whatever amount of fool’s gold we and other factions involved received is not significant enough to cause an issue.”

“So, all dat be left for us is to watch an’ wait for the goblins ta work it out.” He chuckled while folding the papers back up and handing them back, “If the amount ain’t large enough in da eyes of Gallywix an’ Gazlowe, den dat could take years.”

Baine snorted, “That’s true. Thankfully, it was a large amount, so the problem should be put to rest by the end of next month, at the most.”

“Good,” Vol’jin let out a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “dis should be enough reason to silence Gallywix.”

The Tauren’s face twisted in confusion, “I still fail to see why Jastor decided to burst into the Hold whining about how this is an offence to the Horde if the problem isn’t really ours.”

“He was probably hoping dat with our backin’ he might be able to get more den what he lost.” The blue skinned Troll closed his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair, “Still, we gotta keep him happy; send some envoys with him whenever da negotiations start. Dat should keep him grinning.”

“Yes, Warchief.” Baine eyed Vol’jin carefully. His hands had not dropped from his skull, instead resting over his eyes as his head stayed tilted back with his tusks aimed skyward. There was the slightest expression of distress on his face as his lips had curled into what looked like a snarl, “Is…there anything else?”

The Shadow Hunter lifted his hands from his eyes and blinked slowly, as if trying to remember where he was. He exhaled sharply before lowering his head and absentmindedly shuffling through a stack of papers, avoiding his fellow leader’s searching gaze as he did so, “No…dat be all, thank ya.”

“Are you sure –?”

“Go on home ta Thunderbluff, Baine,” the Troll interrupted smoothly as he continued to go through documents. “You been here long enough, I’m sure ya…” Vol’jin bristled and worked his jaw, as though the delayed word tasted bitter and grainy on his tongue, “ _wife_ …misses ya, an’ you probably got tings to do there, as well. Give Kanati my best…”

“Vol’jin – ”

“Dat will be all,” he stood abruptly, causing the legs of his seat to skid across the floor. Without even looking at Baine, the Troll exited swiftly, leaving the Tauren to wonder what could have possibly gotten under his Warchief’s skin.

* * *

 

As Baine stepped out of the portal to Thunderbluff, a soft breeze from the plains surrounding the great city rose up to meet him. He took a deep breath, allowing it to fill his lungs and tingle underneath his skin. Orgrimmar may have been getting better, but there was nothing like home.

It had gotten late, far later than he would have preferred to return, and the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon. Dusky pink strands of sky and a deep orange afterglow were all that reminded the people below the large expanse of atmosphere that the day was not over yet.

Baine rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the remaining numbness that came with traveling by portal. He stepped forward to make room for the entourage that was beginning to exit the portal behind him. Once their hooves touched the soft ground, the expressions on their faces relaxed at the knowledge of finally being home.

“Welcome home.”

The Chieftain turned slightly to find his wife, Kanati, approaching him with a smile. They had only been married for a few months, and the courting period had lasted even shorter, but they were fond of each other. It was a good match in everyone’s eyes; she was a talented herbalist, pleasant, intelligent, and Baine was certain that they would grow to love each other in time.

“I trust that you enjoyed your time in Orgrimmar.”

“Yes,” Baine stepped forward to meet her, taking her arm in his, “though it is good to finally be home.”

Kanati’s smile grew wider as she allowed Baine to lead her in the direction of their home. The people they passed along the way would pause for a moment to nod or bow in respect before going back to their activities. The pair would smile and wave back occasionally, though kept a steady pace as to make it to their home without being stopped. Neither one spoke anymore after their initial greeting, preferring to enjoy the silence of the evening instead of conversation.

It wasn’t until they turned a corner and began walking the paths of High Rise that Kanati hesitantly spoke up.

“Baine?”

“Yes?”

“Did…you receive a visit from anyone in Orgrimmar?”

He gave her a sideways glance, “No.”

“Oh.”

There was an unidentifiable tension after her inquiry, “Kanati?”

She did not respond for the longest time until they finally reached their home. Before Baine had a chance to pass under his threshold and turn in for much deserved relaxation, Kanati gently pulled him aside until they were out of earshot of the two Braves standing guard near the entrance.

“Two druids from the Cenarion have come to speak to you,” she whispered slowly into his ear.

“Okay,” he replied in a hushed voice.

“They’ve been patient, but I can tell whatever it is they wish to speak to you about is important.”

“I see. Kanati?”

“Yes?”

“Why are we whispering?” He couldn’t help but snicker when she gave him a good natured thwack on his shoulder, “Sorry, sorry. The druids are welcome here, as all members of the Cenarion Circle are. Whatever it is they need help with, we are in a position now to give them all the aid they need to help mend Azeroth.”

“They’re not here about Azeroth.”

Well, apparently Vol’jin’s duel would _not_ be the most interesting thing today, “Then what are they here for?”

Kanati simply shrugged before moving around her husband to enter their home, “I’m not sure, but I’m afraid your work for this week isn’t done quite yet.”

* * *

 

Baine became a little less confused when he found his friend Hamuul sitting around the fire in the common room of his home.

And then became confused all over again when he noticed the pinch-faced Night Elf lounging beside him with an abundant number of papers and parcels in his lap.

“Baine,” Hamuul rose and extended his arms in greeting, “it is good to see you, my friend.”

“And you as well,” Baine’s own greeting was delayed by Kanati removing the outer parts of his armor until there was nothing left but the thick leather underneath. He was perfectly capable of removing his own plate and mail, but he knew she liked doing it, so he let her. Once she was finished, he gave Hamuul a short embrace before joining the pair of druids by the fire, “However, the unnamed reason for your visit has left me rather curious.”

“Straight to the point, I see.” The previously silent Kal’dorei huffed as he examined his nails in a bored fashion, “That should make our undertaking _so much_ easier.”

Hamuul rolled his eyes and offered Baine an apologetic look, “Chieftain Bloodhoof, may I introduce to you Mordriel Shadowcrest. Our main envoy for the purpose of our audience.”

“Which is?”

“I believe my companion can do a better job of explaining it than I.”

Said companion sat upright and began to shuffle through some of the forms in his lap. It took him a moment to sort out the correct one, an envelope tied together with string. He paused and sent an inquisitive glance towards Kanati, who sat silently but attentively at her mate’s side.

“Whatever it is you wish to discuss can be said in the presence of my wife,” Baine couldn’t help but say this with a slight edge. Implications that Kanati should not or could not discuss politics had never been welcome in his home; this was no exception.

“She can stay, Mordriel,” Hamuul interjected the moment he sensed the tension, “she can keep this under wraps.”

The Night Elf simply shrugged, “As you know, the more the threat from Draenor decreases, the more the friction between the Horde and Alliance increases with each passing day. Archmage Khadgar of the Kirin Tor senses that the Legion threat has not been snuffed, and is developing a plan involving your Warchief to unite the two sides once and for all against its most common and oldest enemy.”

Baine was now equal parts perplexed and intrigued. From past experience, this certainly seemed like something Khadgar would do. But at the same time, this seemed a little ambitious, even for him, “What kind of unification could possibly accomplish this?”

“Why, the oldest kind there is,” Mordriel replied with a snort as he lazily held out the documents to the Chief.

He accepted the envelope and undid the string holding it closed. Baine removed the cover to look at the first page. A fine sketch of a young woman was the first thing he laid eyes on, and underneath it were what appeared to be multiple upon multiple papers of identification. He sent a sideways look at Kanati, who glanced back at him with an expression that showed she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before starting to glance over the lines of text.

Name: Nadia Ravenscroft…Age: 22…Sex: Female…Occupation(s): Apprentice to Archmage Khadgar, Battlemage…Martial Status: Single… _Crossbreed?_

“I’m sorry, but I still fail to follow either of you.”

Hamuul chuckled as he toyed with one of the beads on his collar, “Think, Baine, what motive could we have in presenting a young woman in regards to your faction’s leader?”

While Baine was still mulling the question over, Kanati’s eyes widened as she realized what all this was.

“You wish to marry them,” she stated in disbelief as her eyes switched back and forth between the two druids.

The warrior beside her did not believe his ears at first, until it all finally clicked at the same time. They couldn’t possibly be serious, could they? “Hamuul, a human-troll crossbreed? You don’t honestly take this seriously?”

“But I do,” the older Tauren said plainly, a hint of a smile playing at his mouth, “I have both witnessed what the Legion is capable of and met this woman in person. I have no desire for those demons to gain any more foothold in this world, so I take this very seriously.”

Baine would admit that he was a bit stunned into silence at Hamuul’s words if asked. He continued to scan over the papers, looking for some error in her profile, “It says here that she is neutrally affiliated, how would she unite the Horde and Alliance?”

“The girl might be a half-breed, but she is of noble blood to one of Stormwind’s most illustrious families,” Mordriel chimed in, “I’m sure with the right persuasion, they would be willing to claim her officially after all this time and grant her a title and holdings, making the issue of Alliance affiliation on paper obsolete.”

“I still fail to see how this could bring peace to our factions.”

“It would be more of a perpetual ceasefire, really,” the Night Elf deadpanned as he went back to examining his nails.

“One step at a time, young Bloodhoof. All we ask is that you consider being a proponent of our cause,” Hamuul rose to his hooves, a look of drowsiness now in his eyes. “We understand how this is a lot of unprecedented information to take in at one time, but a choice must be made soon. We must act quickly and with ease before the tension becomes too much and this plan can no longer even be considered.”

Baine sighed and scratched his head, “This is a lot to consider, Hamuul. You are asking much of me.”

“And for that I apologize,” he bowed low as Mordriel began to rise to his feet as well, “but the fact remains that we are pressed for time. Your opinion is of much value to Vol’jin and will play a key role in this entire process, as far as the Earth Mother wills it to go. We leave early tomorrow for another audience and must retire now, but will leave with you enough evidence and information to hopefully make a decision soon. Please, don’t hesitate to contact us when a choice has been reached. Until then, goodnight and thank you for your hospitality.”

Soon, only Baine and Kanati remained in the room, with the parcels and papers left behind by Mordriel the only sign that there had once been guests. Neither of the Tauren spoke for the longest time, instead staring unfocused at the folder opened in Baine’s hands as the flames in the fire slowly began to die. They glowed a deep orange radiance throughout the room, casting the papers in his hands in an ominous shadow, only adding to the weight of their importance.

“What are you thinking?” Kanati inquired to her husband, who she knew was feeling conflicted about this whole matter.”

“I…am not sure.”

It was the truth. Baine did not know what to think about this entire situation. Never in his life would he have anticipated he would be in a position such as this. Marriage between the Alliance and Horde? The idea itself was preposterous!

But…

The thought of achieving a sort of peace, no matter how grudging, between the factions made the idea very appealing. History was beginning to prove time and time again that the two were capable of working together for a common goal. Maybe instead of being so preoccupied with the present, they could look to the future and all it’s golden potential were they to at least attempt Khadgar’s scheme. Marriage and all its strings were treated with genuine sincerity on both sides; this was one bond you did not break. And if this woman was willing, then by all means, they should at least try.

It was a tempting goal; an intoxicating one, even. But at the same time, Baine was concerned for Vol’jin. What if _he_ wasn’t willing? The Chieftain had sensed the solemnness in his friend that day after the duel. He had heard the conversation between the two trolls, and what Vol’jin’s reaction had been to the banter he would have brushed off so easily only a few months ago. Zen’tabra had even voiced her concern to him a few weeks back. And though their Warchief was putting up a good front, people were worried. **He** was worried.

His happiness mattered to Baine; the thought of being forever bound to an Alliance woman, and a half-bred one at that, probably wouldn’t be very appealing to the troll.

Baine knew the answer he was leaning towards already, but he wished he had more time, as well as a personal introduction to the woman. Meeting her in person and actually talking to her would make the decision come so much easier.

The Tauren let his eyes roam back up to the rough sketch of the candidate. Her hooded eyelids, lips that were parted ever so slightly, and far away expression made for a pleasing visage. Even her record so far was pleasing to the eye. But so much could be put down on paper; even the smartest of beings could be deceived. Khadgar could be making her out to be more than what she was just to make his plan a success.

In the end, the fact that she was a dark horse brought up a whole new question for Baine.

Was she the honest-to-goodness thing…or purely fool’s gold?


	7. Part 6: Rise & Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mordriel gets to know Nadia just a little bit more...

Part 6: Rise and Shine

Mordriel was bored, more so than usual.

Which was saying a lot, especially since he was currently a guest of Archmage Khadgar, whose home was rumored to be the most entertaining in all of Dalaran. It was a shame really, that those rumors were turning out to not be true, as this would make the duration of this harebrained expedition at least a little bit more interesting.

The Elf glanced at the clock seated comfortably on the fireplace mantle. It probably didn’t help that it was 5:30 in the morning. All this flitting about to give important people equally important information was giving him fly-lag.

He huffed and tossed a throw pillow that had been resting next to him on the couch across the room. It landed with an unsatisfying ‘plop’ in chair sitting on the opposite side of the room. Mordriel sighed again, watching the breath that passed his lips dissipate into the frigid morning air. Did he also mention the house was freezing?

It was time for desperate measures.

In one swift motion, Mordriel rose from the sofa, which was honestly far too fanciful for his taste (honestly, gold embroidery?) and glided toward the main entrance. The sun had not yet risen over the skyline, and what little light there was cast cold blue rays through the high reaching windows. It gave the interior of the mansion that eerie, early morning glow which only occurred during the most premature hours dawn when the rest of the world was asleep.

His footsteps echoed across the expanse of foyer as he made his way to the rather childish looking spiral staircase. Really, was it necessary to make stairs spin into their ascent? Their only purpose was for going up and down, no need to make that more complex than that.

Nevertheless, he began his climb. Mordriel passed the second floor...third floor…only stopping when he made it to the very top of the stairs. At the base of the final step was a short hallway cluttered with miscellaneous objects. This must be the attic, as a fine layer of dust covered practically everything and the significant lack of windows compared to the floors below. What little light there was being let in revealed a door at the end of the walkway.

Now, what could be hiding behind Door Number One? Maybe his day would prove to be less boring after all…

Throwing caution to the wind, Mordriel glided down the hall and grasped at the handle. He pushed it open slowly, doing his best to not make any noise. It was chillier in here than it had been elsewhere in the house, he noted. The room behind the door had that same dawning glow the downstairs had. It was a small space, barely enough area to hold the dresser, tiny table, and bed inside. There were trinkets and petite boxes sitting neatly on the dresser, while multiple books stood stacked in orderly columns on the table, taking up most of the space. And the bed…

Oh, wait; there was a person in the bed.

The Night Elf let the door shut gently behind him as he approached the bedpost, the floorboards creaking softly under his light steps. The form underneath the covers rose and fell rhythmically in time with their breathing, assuring Mordriel that Khadgar wasn’t storing a corpse for magical purposes in his attic. He really needed to stop listening to tales from gossipy and bored mages…

Soft breathing could be heard underneath the covers once he reached the headboard. And there, hidden below a warm blanket and midnight blue hair, was the half-breed of the house’s face. The curtain of her tresses covered a majority of the pillow on which she slept, and only her eyes and nose could be seen. A serene look clouded the parts of her profile that could be seen; she looked so relaxed, so blissful…

So boring.

Without even thinking twice, Mordriel leaned over her sleeping form and began poking her in the head with his index finger. She stirred in her sleep but did not wake up, much to his displeasure. He scowled and began to repeatedly jab her head, “Get up.”

Nadia, who had been enjoying a dream, was finally roused out of her slumber. Her eyes scrunched together as she waved away whatever was poking her in the head, “Huh?”

“Get up,” he repeated gruffly, flicking her in the forehead this time around.

She didn’t appreciate his prodding, and finally cracked her eyes open just enough to scowl at him. The elf’s luminous eyes glowered back at her when she scoffed and ducked under her blanket. “I will not get up,” the words came out muffled from under the covers, “it’s too early.”

“I’m bored.”

“Then find a way to entertain yourself.”

It went quiet, and for a moment Nadia thought that he had left. She allowed her consciousness to fade as drowsiness began to take over…

And then the next moment, her blanket was torn away and something icy and wet splashed across her face and into her nose.

Mordriel found her coughing and sputtering to be quite unladylike as she flailed upright on her bed. He ignored her for the most part as he placed the now empty pitcher back on her dresser, “I told you to get up.”

“What is **wrong** with you?” she gasped while rubbing day old, freezing water out of her face. It had soaked her mattress, hair, and sleep shirt, making her feel both uncomfortable and ridiculous.

“I told you, I am bored.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to dump water on me!”

“If you had just gotten up when I asked nicely –,” Mordriel never got to finish that sentence, because as soon as those few words left his mouth he had to duck as Nadia chucked an Ice Lance at his head. It hit the dresser behind him with a resounding ‘CRACK’, shattering the wooden frame and mirror yet freezing whatever shards had broken off to the splinters of ice now sticking out from the piece of furniture.

“Get out,” she hissed, hand still glowing bright white with residual magic.

The Night Elf stayed crouched for a moment longer as he tried to regain his bearings. He cleared his throat and straightened up while smoothing out his robes as though nothing had happened, “Fine. But I expect to see you downstairs within the hour.”

“Why?”

“To play chess, of course”

“Oh my – you know what, fine. Just…please go, so I can change.”

* * *

 

It took her a full hour to finally make it downstairs, much to Mordriel’s annoyance.

There was no logical reason why it could’ve taken her so long…it’s not like she cared for her appearance as much as she should. Her hair had a mind of its own; she never wore jewelry, or even bothered to put on _any_ sort of beauty product.

He looked up just enough to glare at her as she approached him. Her hair was in a sloppy braid, of course, and her choice in clothing was atrocious, “What took you so long?”

“I was taking a bath,” her response was flat and scathing. Nadia scowled in Mordriel’s general direction as she purposefully avoided eye contact and walked right past him without even the slightest acknowledgment.

Mordriel, not used to being ignored, stood and began trailing after her down the long hallway, “It took you a full hour to cleanse?”

“No,” she muttered without even glancing back, “It took me 20 minutes to bathe, and then an extra 40 minutes to sit there in the amazing, warm water and make you wait and freeze.”

Well, Mordriel most certainly wasn’t bored anymore. However, he couldn’t tell if being aggravated was any better, “I suppose it makes sense to stay in the bath for an hour. I doubt you have anything else to do for the day that holds _such purpose_.”

“Well, look at that! Got me all figured out, don’t you?” She stopped dead in her tracks and whipped around to scowl at him with a speed that made him come to a jerking halt behind her, “Let me guess? You think that playing a chess game with you will be the highlight of my day?”

“I’m seldom wrong,” he deadpanned. “Now, will you finally come play? I wish to finish before the rest of the house wakes.”

“No,” she wrenched one of the many doors in the hall open and practically slammed it in his face as she walked through.

Mordriel blinked, stunned at what had just happened, before blowing through the same door behind her like a blizzard. “You’ve got a lot of nerve; we had a deal.”

“Could you just give me a second, please?”

He huffed but halted his assault nonetheless. The druid took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was somewhat surprised to find that he was now in the kitchen instead of another one of the various studies and sitting rooms throughout the house. It looked different than it had the night before.

Racks upon racks of shiny pots, pans, and other cookware lined the walls of the spotless room. Two stoves with multiple sized burners, a large sink, and a marble island took up most of the room. A large metal frame stood hidden in the shadows of the back wall, and Mordriel could see the frost that lined its edges and tiny window. The door stood slightly ajar, casting light into the dim room and letting tendrils of cold air spill out onto the already icy and pale stone floor.

The sound of scuffling to his left caught his ear, and he turned to find Nadia agitatedly going through one of the pantries.

“We’re out of eggs. Of course we’re out of eggs,” she muttered to herself, completely forgetting that there was someone else in the room, “I used them all yesterday for that cake. Now I’ll have to go out and get more, what a waste.”

“Hardly a waste, that dessert was one of the best I’ve had yet.”

Nadia stopped what she was doing and slowly turned around to give him a confused look, “Thank you?” She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not; this was the first compliment he had given her where it actually sounded sincere.

Mordriel shifted uncomfortably; he hadn’t meant to be genuine, he just wanted to get her attention. It was made worse by the now fading tension that had once been between them. He opened his mouth to say something when another door to the side creaked open. The Night Elf felt himself become even more awkward as Khadgar himself trudged into the kitchen. Looking back, the image of a powerful Archmage in an embroidered nightgown, slippers, and headscarf was rather comical.

“What’s going on?” he yawned and rubbed his eyes, “I heard a door slam…”

“Everything’s fine Khadgar, go back to sleep.” Mordriel was caught off guard by her tone. Unlike whenever she spoke to him, it had become gentle and soothing. Things had gone from annoying to bizarre very quickly.

Poor Khadgar just nodded slowly and yawned for a second time before turning around and shuffling out the same door he entered through. It wasn’t until after he left that Mordriel saw Nadia exhale deeply and let her entire body relax.

“Look,” she began while scratching her hair, making it look even more tussled than before, “he’s going to be up again in about two-and-a-half hours, and I’ve got to get breakfast and stuff done before then. So could the chess wait, please?”

“No,” he replied shortly. He realized his hastiness as a mistake as Nadia’s eyes hardened once again, and made the mental note to pace his follow-up, “As hostess, you’re supposed to keep guests entertained. What am I to do if you decide to go off with such inconsideration?”

“Read a book, explore the house, count the number of windows and doors, or the number of tiles on the floor…there’s plenty to do if you get a little creative.”

“I think you mean ‘desperate’.”

“Oh, so waking me up this early by dumping water on me wasn’t desperate?”

She had a point, but he wasn’t going to admit it, “No, it was creative.”

“So, when I come up with an idea it’s desperate, and when _you_ do it it’s creative?”

“Precisely.”

Nadia stared at him for what felt like ages before finally sighing and rolling her eyes in exasperation. Without turning around, she reached back to push closed the still open pantry door, “Fine, believe what you want, but I still have a job to do. So you can either be patient and wait for me to finish, or find something else to do for the rest of the day.”

“…I don’t find either selection very appealing,” he admitted while scrunching his nose in distaste.

“Well, unless you want to help me out to make things go faster, then you’re out of options.”

* * *

 

Mordriel almost couldn’t believe it had come to this.

She must have used some spell on him. That was the only explanation.

There was no other possible reason for him to be following Nadia around Dalaran’s marketplace at seven in the morning carrying a basket of groceries.

One minute he was in the kitchen, and the next he was being elbowed out the front door wearing nearly all of the warm furs he had brought.

Not that they were helping, as Dalaran was currently reminding him that they were still in the middle of Northrend. He lost feeling in the tips of his ears while walking down the quiet streets after five minutes, and even the slightest of breezes felt indescribably brittle. And _he_ was the one who was wrapped in three layers of pelts; Mordriel had no idea how Nadia was able to be completely fine in nothing more than the light coat she had on.

The young woman who was the current subject of his ire gently picked up another apple and brought it to her nose. She inhaled deeply before examining it one last time, handing a few coins to the attendant, and placing it in the basket.

“Only one more stop before we head back,” she said while moving down the row of assorted produce tables.

 _Finally_ , Mordriel thought while following her. Even though they hadn’t been at the market for that long, the Elf was eager to return to Khadgar’s a immediately make use of a fireplace.

The pair passed by many colorful stalls as they wandered about the marketplace. Fruits, vegetables, meats, and grains were just some of the available produce displayed that morning to lure in potential buyers. There weren’t many people out and about yet, as the sun had only just risen over the horizon. The druid was beginning to regret waking Nadia up this early when he started to lose feeling in his toes.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” he mumbled when she stopped _again_ to look at an array of fruits. Why did she need so much?

“I’m making pies tonight,” Nadia placed a bag full of cherries into his basket. She smiled at the stand’s supervisor; a bright-eyed human with freckles splashed across their cheeks, and placed a few pieces of silver into their palm. She finally looked over at her companion/bag-boy with a tired look in her eyes, “you, Kokam, and Hamuul aren’t the only guests we’re having. I’m going to make a bunch tonight and freeze them for later. Making brand new desserts every day on top of everything else is exhausting.”

One of his long eyebrows quirked up, “What could you possibly be exhausted over? You went to bed before all of us last night.”

“I didn’t go to sleep,” she whipped around and began walking briskly in the direction of Khadgar’s home. Mordriel felt his heart soar at the thought of being in a warm house in a few minutes, “I left for my night shift at a bar.”

“You work in a bar?” Now this was a new development. The more time he spent with Nadia, the more interesting she became, “What on earth for?”

Her amber eyes glanced at him from the side, “What’s with all the questions?”

“…I’m bored.”

That wasn’t actually the reason.

Mordriel’s actual reason for being a part of his scheme was to find out as much as possible about Nadia. Her likes, dislikes, personality…even the more gritty details so that he could report back to not only Khadgar, but anyone else who might want to know something to make this process smoother. If something needed to be taken care of or improved, it was his job to find out what it was and the best way to fix it.

“Bored enough to care about what I do in my spare time?” The Night Elf was brought out of his thoughts at her words. He turned his head to find her smirking at him with a playful glint in here eye. Was she…trying to banter with him?

Well, two could play that game. His mouth turned up in a half smile and he stuck his chin up proudly, “Probably, I pride myself on my ability to need constant entertainment.”

Nadia blinked before breaking out into a fit of giggles. The sound echoed throughout the empty streets of Dalaran and floated off into the morning. It was a pleasant laugh, Mordriel would admit. A small part of him, microscopic really, was glad he wouldn’t have to add that to his list of things to improve…

They eventually reached the tall double-doors of Khadgar’s mansion. Nadia slid her key into the lock and passed through the entrance with Mordriel at her heels. She slid off her coat before taking the box from the druid, “Okay, since you helped me with my grocery shopping, I’ll play chess with you now.”

“Truly?” he questioned with a tone of honest surprise while shedding his layers of furs.

“Well, yeah, I said I would didn’t I? Fair is fair. Go get set up in the drawing room from last night and light a fire, matches are in the chest next to that funny looking table lamp. I’ll be in there soon.”

All Mordriel could do was nod dumbly as she glided down the hallways towards the kitchen. He really hadn’t expected her to play him this morning, though couldn’t remember why he had doubted her to being with.

This girl was just full of surprises today, wasn’t she?

* * *

 

“Why do you work in a bar?”

The sound of a crackling fire and the steady ticks from the clock were the only background noises in the sitting room as Mordriel slid his bishop across the chessboard. Nadia, who had been watching all his moves intensely throughout the whole game, chuckled and shook her head.

“You asked me this already,” was her only reply as she gracefully picked up her knight and placed it four spaces from his bishop.

“You can’t just mention that you work in a bar and then not elaborate,” he deftly slid his bishop one space over and out from danger of her knight, “it’s not polite to leave guests wondering like that.”

“Well if you must know, I have to pay for school one way or another.” She slowly skated one of her rooks across the board, as if unsure about her move, “It doesn’t pay a lot, but people tip well.”

“School?”

“Uh-huh. I went to Dalaran’s Academy of Magic, graduated top of my class. I’m not from one of those rich families who usually send their members there, so I’m still trying to pay it off.”

“I see…What do you do?”

“I don’t think I understand the question.”

“At the bar, do you make drinks? Because if so, I’m supposed to meet with Khadgar again tomorrow and something strong beforehand would be a godsend.”

Nadia snickered as she watched Mordriel move one of his pawns, “No, I don’t mix drinks, sorry. I’m just one of the waitresses and occasionally I’ll…never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re leaving something interesting out, now tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No_.”

“Tell me.”

“Fine!” she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Sometimes, and _only_ sometimes, I’ll…dance on the weekends.”

Mordriel stared at her as though she had suddenly turned a different color. The chess game had been completely forgotten by both of them at this point, with Nadia beginning to blush as the druid opposite her continued gawking. Slowly, a smirk spread across his lips as he leaned back in his chair, ever so satisfied and amused.

“Really?” He stroked his beard and had to keep from laughing, as Nadia’s blush intensified.

“Well, not _that_ often –.”

“Do it,” he blurted out while leaning forward with such eagerness that it caused the poor girl to recoil ever so slightly.

“What?”

“Dance. Right now. Prove it.”

“No!”

“I’ll help you with all those desserts if you do,” he offered, “it will go by faster if I aid you. You may even be able to fit in a nap before work.”

He watched as she chewed at her bottom lip in consideration of his proposal. “You want to see me dance that badly?” she asked carefully.

“Very much so, yes.”

If Nadia could dance, it would be a very desirable talent for her to have throughout this process. Whoever would be in charge of making her as…appealing as possible was going to be very pleased with this development. As much as he didn’t like to think about it, this was his job…

After what felt like ages, she finally sighed and slowly stood up from her chair. Mordriel’s eyes never left her as she moved over to the area of open floor in front of the window. What happened next surprised him more than he would ever admit.

Ever so slowly, Nadia went into a nameless and graceful dance. She arched her arms before letting her body dip backwards, and a series of alluring hand movements followed in suit. The light spilling in from the window highlighted her entire form as she straightened up into a waltz like spin and opening her arms as though to embrace someone. The Night Elf had no words as he watched her raise one of her legs behind her as though it were weightless and twist her wrist into the air before dropping both and arching her body back yet again.

 _This was good. Very good_ , the Night Elf thought as he continued to observe her unfamiliar yet picturesque dance. He doubted that Khadgar knew about this little tidbit, but once the Archmage did he could only estimate how pleased he would be.

Khadgar’s diamond in the rough was finally beginning to shine.

It was time for the next phase…


	8. Part 7: The Color Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vol'jin gets some interesting news...

Part 7: The Color Red

* * *

 

What would later be know as one of the starting points for the revolutionary unification of Alliance and Horde forces for the betterment of Azeroth, began as any other Thursday for Warchief Vol’jin. He woke up, got dressed, read his morning reports, and then went to start the afternoon-long hearing sessions in the throne room of Grommash Hold.

If someone had told him his life was about to be drastically changed, he probably wouldn’t have gotten out of bed…

It all started on one of the hottest days of the year.

By the time the sun had begun to set across the great expanse of desert that was Durotar, Grommash Hold had come to resemble a furnace. The air was so thick with heat that a few emissaries had to step out in fear of fainting, and almost everyone was sweating. The only ones spared of being drenched in their own perspiration were the Forsaken. But even they were having a hard time, as the sweltering temperature was causing whatever muscles and tendons remained to slacken. More than one had fallen down after their legs gave out, and if loose jaws weren’t hanging open before they certainly were now.

After the last representative for the day had finished voicing their concerns, one could practically feel the relief emitting from every exhausted emissary, entourage, and eyewitness in the room. People physically relaxed now that official business was out of the way and began to break off into separate, more casual groups for their daily dose of political and social gossip.

Vol’jin allowed himself to ease more into his seat as he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. This heat was beginning to get to him too, as was the increasing volume among the throngs of people. His eyes did a full sweep of the crowded room, wondering what the incessant gossip of the Horde had chosen as its central piece of scandal for the day.

Perhaps, it was about Trade Prince Jastor Gallywix and his latest debacle? There had been talk about something involving a pool party, a piñata, and multicolored golf balls earlier that week…

Or maybe it would be Regent Lord Lor’themar Theron who would hold the spotlight with rumors of one his mysterious lovers finally being unmasked? Now that’d be something…

However, could anything really top the shenanigans of Rokhan and Ji Firepaw? The prank war that had broken out between them and their trainees was attracting quite an audience…

A sudden round of quiet gasps caught his attention and he glanced to his left. A group Tauren who were with Baine had begun to whisper anxiously amongst each other with expressions of disbelief splashed across their faces. They had been looking right at him until he caught them staring, at which point they turned away immediately before continuing their murmuring.

Huh…maybe he was the subject of gossip today?

“Warchief?”

He turned slowly to his right to find another one of Baine’s men down on one knee with his head bowed in respect. This one was younger than the others standing off to the side, with smaller horns and darker fur yet to be subjected to the effects of time. Without looking up, he presented the troll with a folded slip of paper held out in the palm of his hand.

“My Chieftain has requested I give this to you, sir,” his voice was so quiet and quivering that Vol’jin could barely hear him over the crowd.

“Ya have my thanks,” he replied while accepting the note, “an’ no need ta call me ‘sir’. I ain’t that old, yet.”

The Warchief’s attempt to put the boy at ease seemed to do the trick as he let out a sigh and finally glanced up at the faction leader with a relieved smile. “Ah, yes, sir – I mean, yes, Warchief!”

It took all of Vol’jin’s self-control not to laugh as the clearly flustered youth scampered back over to the larger group of Braves. They seemed to have no problem teasing, though; good-natured bantering started up the moment he rejoined their circle.

The feeling of paper between his fingers brought him back to the present. He overlooked the throngs of denizens, searching for Baine to see if he could infer something from his friend’s composure. However, the Shadow Hunter became somewhat unsettled to find that the Tauren leader was now nowhere to be found. He unfurled the note in a few deft motions and read its contents.

The circulating crowd was too caught up in their socializing to notice the look of confusion that passed over their Warchief’s face. Had they noticed, they most certainly would have started blathering and come up with many wild theories as to what it could mean.

Thankfully, they were too captivated in their own tall tales to notice his expression, the way he carefully discarded the note into a nearby brazier, or when he slipped out of the Hold without anyone noticing. By the time they realized he was gone, most had already left on their own accord, and those who remained took it upon themselves to follow suit. Soon, all that remained were a few bored guards and an empty throne to bear the heat of the day.

…

Baine had never been one to send notes, preferring to speak about matters face to face, which is why Vol’jin felt rather on edge when he was presented with one from said leader.

 _‘Meet me in your study’,_ is what it read. There was nothing more and nothing less. However, there was an underlying sense of urgency in those five words.

He picked up his pace as he turned a corner, startling two Silvermoon paladins who had been leaning casually against the wall while making small talk. They both jumped to attention and saluted, one of the poor souls nearly dropping the sword he had been twirling lazily one hand, but by the time they’d regained their bearings Vol’jin had already rounded another corner out of sight.

He did not happen upon any others in the empty halls, as most were just now heading back to their rooms. It made for a much easier trip, since there was no one to stop him to inquire about some matter or another. The journey did not last long, as the hallways eventually delivered him to the tall double doors of his study. Both guards at either end pounded a fist to their chests as he approached, but showed no other signs of disturbance.

Voices could be heard on the opposite side of the entrance, and the troll wasted no time pushing the doors open.

Baine was the first person he saw. He seemed to be in the middle of a heated conversation with someone on the opposite side of the Warchief’s desk. Vol’jin couldn’t see who it was, and could not make out any identification from their voice, as Baine’s much deeper one masked any distinguishable speech patterns and tones.

Only when the doors shut with a heavy thud did the Tauren leader finally notice that Vol’jin had arrived. He looked over his shoulder to cast a surprised glance in the troll’s direction, more than a little bit startled at the fact that his Warchief had entered without making a sound. Weren’t rogues supposed to be the ones who were silent? He was about to greet the Shadow Hunter when someone beat him to it…

“How do you find anything on this desk? It’s a disaster.”

The voice, now easily heard, was finally recognizable and didn’t help putting any of Vol’jin’s nerves at ease. Baine stepped to the side, revealing former Warchief Thrall. Now known as Go’el, his visits to Orgrimmar had become more infrequent ever since joining the Earthen Ring, especially after Garrosh’s reign had come to an end.

Vol’jin hadn’t actually seen the shaman in the city ever since his induction as Warchief. He didn’t really know what to make of his friend’s sudden appearance, and if he were to be honest it wasn’t sitting well with him. And now that he thought about it, seeing Go’el casually sifting through his documents while being seated in his chair behind _his_ desk didn’t exactly sit well with him either…

Thankfully, the Orc set the papers aside as he rose from his seat and rounded the desk to greet Vol’jin properly. There was a smile on his face, but there was a certain look in his eyes betraying any innocence that was being fronted.

“It is good to see you again,” Go’el continued while stopping a few feet short of the Troll and bowing slightly. Vol’jin bowed in return and cast a quick glance at Baine off to the side. The warrior had taken to intensely examining the walls and seemed to be content with looking _anywhere_ else than at him.

“It be a pleasure to see ya again. I trust all is well?”

“Yes, though I regret not being able to bring my family. Aggra has been wanting to see everyone after all this time, but I had to come here quickly and the arrangements for her and the children could not be made.”

“Dat be unfortunate; giver her an’ da kids my best when ya return,” the Troll noted. He looked back towards the silent Tauren, who was now giving one of the rugs his undivided attention, “Baine, welcome back.”

All Vol’jin received in response was a polite nod and a brief moment of eye contact before he began studying the walls once more. _Okay, then…_

“While ya both always be welcome here,” the Troll began, turning back towards Go’el, as he seemed to be the only one with the ability to speak today, “I can’t help but wonder da reason for this unexpected visit. Why da secrecy?”

“We are here on…well, rather pressing matters,” the shaman avoided the question as he exchanged yet another look with Baine. “Perhaps we should all sit down for this?”

Vol’jin raised a brow at the suggestion, but went with the other two men anyway as they moved over to the seating area near shelves of archives.

“So?” the troll asked once they had claimed their spots on the chairs and loungers. There was a pause as Go’el looked towards Baine, as though he were indicating for him to speak first, but the Tauren just stared sourly and unapologetically back at him. There had been a strange tension between them ever since Vol’jin had entered the room, and he wondered what could have possibly caused it.

“The both of us,” the Orc began after giving Baine a pointed look, to which he turned his nose at, “have it on good report that a potential peace treaty will be presented to both the Alliance and Horde in the coming weeks.”

Well, then. The shadow hunter hadn’t been expecting that to be the news Baine and Go’el were skirting around. By the way they were behaving, he thought someone had been kidnapped or something, “A peace treaty, really?”

The Tauren warrior further soured at Go’el’s word choice, but the shaman either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it, “Yes, drawn up by Archmage Khadgar, who wishes to act as moderator between the two factions.”

So far, this all sounded too good to be true: it was highly doubtful that the mage had managed to put anything together that even remotely resembled a treaty. To start, he wasn’t exactly a diplomat, and Vol’jin didn’t know if Khadgar even knew _how_ to put together a legal document. He had proved himself in Draenor to be cooperative, well informed, and skilled, but any kind of records he tried to send out were unreadable. A second draft, this time actually legitimate, would always have to be sent out by his apprentice, whoever they were.

It wasn’t like peace hadn’t been attempted between the two factions before, either. And while relationships had improved, and to use the word ‘improved’ was a stretch in and of itself, all previous attempts had the habit of ending in disaster. Add a fanciful mage with a personality large enough to cast its own shadow, and suddenly things had the potential to go from bad to worse.

“While I see da benefit of endin’ any hostilities between our two factions,” Vol’jin began, giving his friends a look of absolute seriousness, “dere be a history of discourse dat we cannot overlook. A treaty becomes nothin’ more den paper when things get tough. What makes Khadgar think dat we might stay true ta what we say in writing?”

Baine let loose a dark laugh when Go’el paused at the question. It was the first sound he had made throughout the entire discussion, “The Archmage has added a certain ‘provision’ to ensure cooperation from both sides.”

“If the Alliance and Horde were to agree,” the Orc interjected before Bloodhoof could further explain, “then neither group could break the contract, as the agreement would technically be joining together our factions. We would maintain our independence, but this treaty would lead to a cease-fire, trade deals – “

“What be dis provision?” Vol’jin didn’t like the way Go’el was skirting around this discussion; it was only making him more suspicious. Not that he was all that surprised; the Troll was familiar with the shaman’s behavior patterns whenever he thought he was doing something for the best…

It also wasn’t very shocking when his friend took a long pause to organize his thoughts. “Well,” he started slowly, unsure of the best words to use, “nothing is set in stone yet – “

“Baine,” the Warchief turned to the Thunderbluff leader. He was the one who would tell him the truth, “What provision?”

This time, there was no glance exchanged with Go’el, and Baine met Vol’jin’s stare head on. He sat silently and searched his eyes, as though looking for some cue to tell him whether or not the Shadow Hunter really wanted to know.

“Archmage Khadgar has outlined in the treaty that in order to solidify peace…there must be a marriage between the acting Warchief and an Alliance woman of high standing.”

“…Marriage?”

Conversations that were taking place in the hallways drifted into the room as their speakers passed by the doors. It had gone so quiet that even noises from the streets of Orgrimmar were making their way inside. The Warchief sat there staring silently ahead, making the two men opposite him shift uncomfortable under his gaze. Both braced themselves for Vol’jin’s inevitable reaction, whatever it might be…

“Heh…Ha-ha!”

Though, they hadn’t expected a reaction quite like this.

Baine and Go’el exchanged awkward glances with each other as their friend began to chuckle as though one of them had just told a simple joke. Those chuckles soon evolved into full out laughter, making the pair even more confused than they were originally.

“Ah, Vol’jin?” Go’el didn’t really know how to respond to his friend’s laughter, as this scenario had never even crossed his mind.

“I have ta thank ya for dat,” he gasped out between laughs, “I been needing a good laugh. For a moment, I thought ya might be serious.”

“We are being serious.”

Whatever humor there was immediately vanished as Vol’jin’s laughter came to an abrupt halt. His smile quickly changed into a scowl as he regarded the pair with disbelief.

“What?”

The tone his voice had taken on was dangerously low, challenging either party to confirm what they had just revealed to him. Baine sighed to himself as the Troll and Orc stared each other down. He knew something like this was going to happen. After his visit from Hamuul, Go’el had contacted the warrior the following night, alerting him that he had been a recipient of the same proposal only hours before.

Though it seemed like they were originally on the same page, it became blatantly obvious that neither of them could agree on how to best tell Vol’jin. Baine wanted to wait until a finished draft of the treaty had been drawn up and presented to the Alliance. He believed that this would go over best if the faction were to propose considering peace first, and _then_ the Horde (and more specifically Vol’jin) could decide the next course of action.

A group vote would probably result in favor of the treaty. Thunderbluff would most likely say yes, after he spoke with his advisors. Silvermoon had not so subtly wanted relations with the Alliance for years, and Bilgewater might if only for more trade opportunities. Etrigg and Saurfang could be won over with careful deliberation, as both seemed to want to focus their efforts on the Burning Legion, as did the Houjin.

Ancestors knew how the Undercity or Darkspear would side. Sylvanas would question how this decision would affect her claim to Gilneas, though she could potentially be won over with requisitioning land from the Hillsbrad Foothills and Arathi Highlands. And the trolls followed Vol’jin faithfully regardless of personal opinion, so whatever he decided was law.

Either way, the odds would have been in their favor…

Unfortunately, Go’el thought it best to _spring_ this on everyone like some Goblin party popper. He claimed it was for the sake of time, and that they could not wait for the Alliance to extend an olive branch. A stance had to be chosen ahead of time so that proceedings, whatever they may be, could be prepared for and perfected. Baine could see where the Orc was coming from, but was more than upset when he just went ahead and did what he pleased.

They could have at least compromised and waited for an actual treaty to be drawn up instead of discussing pure speculation…

“I know this news is rather unbelievable,” Go’el continued to Vol’jin, who was still staring at the pair as though they had spontaneously burst into flames, “but after looking over the preliminary documents from the Archmage – “

“What documents?” the Warchief was beginning to get tired of asking questions and getting no answers, so when the shaman gestured towards his desk Vol’jin abandoned the group and stalked over to the table without a second thought. Sure enough, stacked neatly amongst the scattered papers, were a group of documents he had never seen before.

Slicing open the string that held them all together with one of his sharp claws, the Troll began flipping through the pamphlets without actually reading them. Many of them were spreadsheets with numbers and statistics, while the rest were filled with words upon words of nonsensical information.

Vol’jin looked back up over the other side of his desk towards Baine and Go’el, who had followed him to this side of the room. “Why me?” he questioned sincerely, the expression on his face having changed from a scowl to one of genuine curiosity.

“Well, you are acting Warchief. And the candidate for wedlock is believed to be the most compatible.”

“I ain’t marriyin’ no Elf,” the scowl returned, as did the icy tone from before. If they honestly thought he would even _consider_ wedding a Night Elf…

“Ah, no, not an Elf – “

One of Vol’jin’s brows rose on his forehead and a look akin to disgust crossed his features, “A _human_?”

“The woman that Khadgar has recommended is a young crossbreed, half-troll and half-human,” Baine finally interjected when he could take no more. It was clear that Go’el would not be straightforward on this matter, “She’s his apprentice and of Alliance nobility; the Archmage must believe her to be suitable, or he would not have recommended her.”

While this was the most truthful revelation that Vol’jin had received yet, it only succeeded in making him angrier. He was Warchief, a Shadow Hunter, a proud leader of his people. To be downgraded to someone who should tie himself to this… _mutt_ was an insult. He would have preferred a Night Elf.

“No.” The folder the troll had been scanning was slapped shut so forcefully that its sound reverberated across the room. His golden eyes glowered at the two leaders standing across from him, daring either one to further insist on this scheme.

Go’el accepted the challenge as he frowned at Vol’jin’s response, “We cannot be so quick to discredit this opportunity.”

“ _We_ ,” he countered evenly, his voice having never been raised this whole time, “don’ have nearly enough facts ta make a decision so quickly. Da opinion of the whole Horde must be considered, and I fo’ one am not so eager ta bind myself to some haughty Alliance half-breed.”

“As of now, they will have received copies of these documents and memos of this proposal by the time we are done here.” Had Go’el been facing Baine more directly, he would have seen the look of complete shock cross the Tauren’s face. Now this was certainly news to him, and most certainly something he would have been against.

“Dat was not ya decision to make,” the Shadow Hunter ground out through clenched teeth. Baine saw how his hands had clenched into tight fists, betraying his preexisting state of calm up to this point, and decided now would be a good time to bring this discussion to a close.

“Our job here is done,” he began slowly, as to not add to the tension in the room, “I’m sure the Warchief has much to consider, and we will soon have questions to answer from Horde dignitaries who wish to know more about this treaty. Might we take our leave?”

“Yes,” Vol’jin muttered while sneering off to the side. Go’el waited for him to finally look their way, but when it became apparent that the conversation was over he gave a curt bow before turning on his heel and making his way out the doors. He didn’t seem to realize that Baine had not left with him.

The Tauren waited until the tall doors had shut after the shaman’s departure before directing his full attention to Vol’jin. “Are there any questions that I may answer for you?” he asked sincerely.

The Troll simply shook his head as he lowered himself into the tall backed chair at his desk. He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes shut as all the information he had just received rattled in his mind. “How long have ya known about dis?” he questioned after a short moment.

“Only a few days.”

“Hmm, and how long has all dis plannin’ taken?”

“From what I could collect after speaking to Khadgar’s representatives, a few months at the most.” Baine nearly winced at the sound of displeasure that sounded from the back of Vol’jin’s throat. He shared the Troll’s sentiment; this was indeed moving very fast, and he couldn’t even begin to guess how his friend felt about all this, “There is no rush to make a decision.”

The Warchief chuckled humorously and lowered his hand to give Baine a look of irony, “Dere certainly feels like a rush. Da moment I leave dis room, everyone’s gonna ‘ave questions, everyone’s gonna be voicing their opinion, and everyone’s gonna want ta know my thoughts. By the end of dis day, all of the Horde will be havin’ something new ta gossip about.”

“True, and I will be more than willing to curve their prying until you have come to a decision on your own time,” the Tauren’s offer earned him an appreciative half-smile from Vol’jin, though an slightly forced one nonetheless. “Until then, here.”

There was a rustling of fabric as Baine reached into one of his pockets to produce another one of Khadgar’s pamphlets. He extended the papers to the Troll, who eyed them warily.

“What be dis?

“The original files from the Archmage included an extensive profile on his apprentice. While very informative, it wasn’t surprising to see that he included a lot of…personal material. It was nice to put a face and individuality to the girl. Go’el thought it best that everything remain objective, but I thought you deserved to know.”

“…And if I don’ want ta know?” he had still not yet accepted the booklet, staring at it as though it were to blame for his new set of problems.

The warrior laughed to himself as he set the items down on the desk on top of all the treaty’s numbers and words that now seemed less important, “That is something you will have to decide for yourself, Warchief. Until next time.”

Vol’jin watched as Baine bowed and took his leave out the same doors Go’el had left through. The sounds from the hallway had almost faded to nothing, as almost everyone had returned to their rooms by now to wind down for the evening. He wished he could do the same. Now that he was alone, he expected himself to be able to collect his thoughts. There was a lot more to consider now before the day was out.

Unfortunately, the new set of knowledge lying on the desk without a care in the world mocked him.

With hesitant hands, Vol’jin slowly opened the cover of the booklet, only to thwack it shut instantly. He had not expected the sketch of a face to be lying in wait under the covering. Carefully, he felt for the picture with one hand under the cover, turned it over, and slid it away before attempting to read the profile for the second time.

As Baine had said, there was indeed a lot of personal information. Along with her name and biographical data, were pages upon pages of the woman’s likes and dislikes, hobbies and skills, and bits of knowledge that would normally take months or even years to get out of a person…

The first thing that stuck a chord was that she loved the color red.

 _Red_ …

How fitting…

Vol’jin caught himself in his train of thought, and with a snarl closed the pamphlet before becoming too invested. There was no reason to remember any of this, because he was absolutely under no circumstances going to consider peace in this manner.

Except, he was.

The numbers on the spreadsheets hadn’t been completely useless. Those that did make sense and were relevant had been very tempting from what had been projected so far. Taxes on imported goods from Darnassus alone would have been enough to turn even the most warmongering of heads, and that was just one city. There would have to be a lot more research, but there was no denying the potential benefits for both sides.

Not to mention all this senseless fighting could be brought to an end. Would there still be tensions? Of course, he wasn’t naïve. But there would no longer be the threat of an all out war or prolonged skirmishes, as both sides would be held equally responsible though this union.

And on the topic of union…

Vol’jin’s other hands still rested atop the sketch of the woman. He didn’t dare lift it, in fear of what he might discover underneath, but allowed himself to at least think about it. This was not ideal _at all_ ; the knowledge of her being a half-breed still made his skin crawl. But…she was willing and would bring along untold benefits for the Horde. Perhaps this is what the Loa meant when they said they had something in store for him?

 _She loved the color red_ …

In a sharp command in Zandali, one of his guards entered and stood ready to do his Warchief’s bidding.

“I ‘ave a message for our ambassadors ta take to their leaders,” he stated while standing from his seat, the woman’s profile in his grasp, “tell them dat we will meet soon to discuss dis treaty and ta come ready to voice their concerns and their stance. Dey will know what I mean.”

With a quick salute, the messenger was out the door as quickly as he had come in. Once again finding himself alone, Vol’jin moved to leave his study as well, but froze before even making his way around the desk.

Without looking down, he carefully pocketed the simple sketch of the face that had startled him so, and left to find his advisors without another word.

_She loved the color red…_


	9. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nadia gets an unwanted visitor...

 

Part 8: The Sound of the Underground

“Alright, now add the vegetables…good, now stir them in quickly…no, faster – okay, you’ve gotta speed up…A little too fast, so hold the handle…You have to hold the handle or the pot might fall – just hold it! Don’t give me that look, I already told you wouldn’t get burned! Just hold the –“

_CRASH!_

“…Oh, Mordriel.”

The Night Elf glared at Nadia as they both stood over the newly created puddle of soup on the once pristine kitchen floor. He opened his mouth to quarrel, then remembered and pressed his lips into a tight frown. None of this would have ever happened if she’d just done what he wanted and not insisted he learn how to cook.

Well, none of this would have happened if he’d never gone shopping with her a few days ago, if one wanted to go back even further.

While the experience had allowed him to gain much knowledge on the mage for the Changeover Committee (Khadgar’s official name for the panel he would select to help him with the process of preparing both the treaty and Nadia), he’d also gotten a nasty cold from the chilly weather that morning. While the druid was better for the most part, he was still tired and his nose ran occasionally.

Oh, and he’d completely lost his voice.

It was safe to say that Mordriel was not happy. Being unable to voice your thoughts whenever you wanted was indescribably irritating. He’d always been an opinionated Elf, so this was absurd. Not only was he hindered from telling people _anything_ , but also everyone around him seemed to be taking full advantage of his misfortune.

Kokam was would ask him stupid questions left and right, and he was forced to resort to simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ shaking of the head responses. He could use no sarcasm. No sass. _Nothing_. And whenever Hamuul saw him clearly struggling, the old Tauren would simply chuckle to himself and go back to whatever he was reading.

And their host… _ohhh, their_ _host…_

Khadgar was proving to be more ridiculous than the Night Elf had originally assumed. Not only did he seem to be more than content to spend his time pushing every single solitary button the temporarily voiceless Elf had, the Archmage would ask him things that he just knew would get on the druid’s nerves.

“Mordriel, what do you think of these robes?” And, of course, the robes he would be wearing would be absolutely atrocious on purpose.

“I’m thinking of redecorating, what do you think of royal purple walls, Mordriel?”

_Why, undeniably cliché, you tasteless coot._

“I’ve signed us up for a trivia night, isn’t that great?”

_I swear on Cenarius, it will be the last think you ever do._

“Mordriel, should I use the back door or the front door today?”

 _I want to press your face into a door_.

The Night Elf was gently pulled from his brooding when Nadia politely told him to grab more dishrags from the cabinet above them as she knelt down and began mopping up what was once going to be their late lunch. He complied and knelt down to help her clean the floor, lest Khadgar appeared out of thin air and ask him his opinion on fruit. She gave him a confused look, wondering why he was voluntarily helping her, before shrugging and going back to what she was doing.

Surprisingly, Nadia was the only one who had not yet been a total abomination and taken advantage of his wretched state. However, she had proven to be a nuisance in a brand new way regardless…

Now that she had opened up to him more, and that he could not verbally spar her at every turn, the apprentice mage was proving to be rather chatty.

Which was a good thing, because his role in all of this was to get her to trust him and tell him the truth on matters that were bothering her. On the other hand, there was the issue with the talking. Nadia tended to go on about things that seemed totally useless to him, but would, in time, prove to be an essential part of her person.

Like when she had ranted to him about the terrible state in the Underbelly, and how the Kirin Tor were ignoring the needs of the people who lived there. Turns out, she was born and raised there, and expressed legitimate concerns for her home and community. It was a good trait to have as someone who would soon be asked to help lead nations.

And then there was the instance the young woman had gone on and on about her curiosity over Dalaran expanding its reach into preserving Crystalsong Forest. Apparently, she had been a Battlemage during the fight against the Lich King and had been absolutely enchanted with the strange beauty of the forest when traveling to defend the land from undead forces on all fronts. Mordriel agreed with her that Crystalsong was beautiful in its whimsical aesthetic of arcane and nature and appreciated her view on the forest. Most other mages he met simply wanted to siphon resources from the ruins and other features.

He had to admit; Nadia had not yet ceased to surprise him with bits and pieces about her personality and desires. She kept them well guarded (he didn’t blame her, the political climate here was brutal), but the occasional quirk or piece of intellect would occasionally slip out. And the druid was all too pleased to slot them into his memory for future use, as anything he could get his hands on would make this transition smoother.

“Alright, that’s good enough,” Nadia sighed while rising to her feet, hands full of broth soaked cloths. She discarded them into a nearby basket with other dirty fabrics, which he could only assume were to be washed at a later time, “C’mon, let’s start over. We can’t eat what’s not here.”

Mordriel made a displeased sound of protest in the back of his throat and his long ears lowered. He had already wasted an hour of his life on the first failed batch, and there was no way in this world he was going to invest another into cooking ever again. Nadia pursed her lips and raised a challenging brow at his dissent.

“What? You don’t want to? Well, this is kind of your fault, so what do you suggest we do instead?”

She huffed when his only response was a nonchalant shrug, and he continued to scowl as he watched her lift the pot from the floor and place it into the sink. The mage turned back to him, crossing her arms and looking him up and down with amusement, and Mordriel became a little suspicious at the slight mood change.

“You know what,” she said after a moment, lips turning up into a half-smile, “I don’t feel like starting over either. Let’s go out, treat ourselves!”

The Night Elf’s ears lifted and his scowl softened at the idea. He _had_ wanted to try some of Dalaran’s more famous restaurants. The only one he’d visited to so far was that tea place, and he didn’t even get the chance to order something. Things with Khadgar had been moving so quickly that he hadn’t had any time to enjoy himself on this trip. Huh, maybe this would be –

“But you’re paying, since you messed up lunch in the first place.” Laughter spilled from Nadia’s mouth as Mordriel’s ears drooped again and his scowl returned. She never would have guessed that he would have such a wide range of facial expressions. He should have lost his voice earlier, “Okay, okay, we’ll split the bill. Sound fair?”

It was indeed fair to him, as his ears raised themselves again and the sneer left his face. The bored expression on his face returned, but Nadia had learned that this was a good sign over the past few days. She moved toward the sink so she could get a sponge to better clean the floor with; if she left it like it was, it would become sticky and attract critters.

“Just let me finish up here, and then we can head out,” the faucet began to spew out warm water as the mage poured soap into the filling sink. Bubbles began to form, at which point she scooped up a generous handful of the suds and blew them in Mordriel’s direction. Her giggles returned when he dodged the incoming lathers with a spastic flair and glared at her once more before rolling his eyes. He gestured at the floor where the bubbles had floated to the ground and raised one of his long brows as if to say ‘now look what you’ve done’.

“Oh, relax! It’s all just soap,” she wrung out the sponge, letting a foggy waterfall descend into the sink, before kneeling back down on the floor. “Now, wash out that pot for me, please?”

He sighed dramatically but moved forward to do as asked nonetheless. Just as his hands were reaching into the sink, Khadgar came barging through the door, startling both him and Nadia. The Archmage had an ever-so-satisfied grin on his face and eyes that were wide with excitement. Some rolled up parchments were clutched tightly in a raised fist, and for some reason the druid felt his heart stop.

“Mordriel, might I speak to you for a moment?”

The Night Elf blinked a few times as he collected himself and glanced the new arrival up and down. He was wearing nicer robes than what would be required for any regular day, the stare he had zeroed in on his apprentice had the likeness of a child ogling the biggest prize on a carnival game shelf at the Darkmoon Faerie, and there was a twinkle in Khadgar’s eye that was making him nervous.

He glanced back at Nadia, who had read the room and gone back to scrubbing the floor. “Go on ahead,” she said without looking up, “I’ll meet you in the foyer once I’m done. “

“You heard the girl, I’ve got some very exciting news for you!” Khadgar spun on his heel and marched back out the kitchen. Mordriel hesitated for a moment, turned off by the bit about ‘exciting’ news, and then gracefully skulked after his host, bored expression still in place. He honestly didn’t know what to expect as he followed the Archmage down the hall, but he doubted it would be anything good based off his more recent experiences this week.

Eventually finding himself led into one of the house’s many studies, Mordriel involuntarily jumped as Khadgar slammed the doors shut and waved the papers in his face as though trying to fan his eyes dry, “You’ll never believe what I have in my hands right now!”

The Night Elf silently scowled back at the enthusiastic man standing far too close for comfort. Even if he could verbally guess, the thought of going along with whatever little game Khadgar was trying to play still would’ve been too unappealing to do so. Not that he would’ve had the chance to respond, as the Archmage pressed on while pressing the papers to Mordriel’s nose as well.

“Responses! From the leaders of the Alliance!”

Mordriel knew, even before Khadgar could begin his next sentence, what was about to happen. It was all too obvious. From the way he was smiling to the way he was continuing to keep Nadia in the dark, it was all far too obvious.

“They’ve said yes,” Khadgar exclaimed with the largest and most proud smile he’d ever displayed overtaking his face, “they’ve all said yes!”

With a cheer of excitement, he spun around in a full circle and practically danced his way over to a nearby desk. Mordriel stayed frozen where he was, unsure of what to do with himself and the information he had just received.

“Oh, this is fantastic!” His hands darted around the desk, from the drawer, to the bank statements and checks inside, to the quill and ink. Wood and glass clonked and clinked against each other as Khadgar’s eagerness began to show more and more, “I did not expect for them all to agree. And so quickly! There’s so much to be done; which is where you come in, my friend!”

Glowing eyes watched with scrutiny as his wrist twisted and flared while filling out one of the slips in his checkbooks. Mordriel continued to stare, unblinking, as Khadgar put everything back in its original place before backtracking his way over to the Night Elf. The check, and the generous amount written on it, was practically tossed at him.

“Take this,” the Archmage instructed with a twinkle in his eye, “and go to the best dress shop you can find and start an account. Take Nadia with you and help her find something for an official portrait the Alliance has requested be done on their behalf. It will be seen by nobles, ambassadors, socialites…basically the whole world. She must make a statement, yes? Now go! Best not waste any time!”

That grin, this reckless handout, the way he was trying to get him to take Nadia away immediately…Mordriel’s eyebrows slowly knit into a cold scowl as alarms began going off in the back of his head. Khadgar wasn’t completely acting out of character, but it was enough to raise suspicion.

“What?” the Archmage asked innocently when all he got in response was silence. He looked back at the check that was still in his outstretched hand, “Do you think it’s not enough?”

Mordriel continued to stare, and it only took a few more seconds for Khadgar to finally crack.

“Okay, fine!” he conceded, throwing his arms into the air exasperatedly. “A member of the Ravenscroft family is coming by soon to officially claim Nadia as a member of their family. King Wrynn has mandated that she be acknowledged as legitimate; that’s the only way she can be put forth as a candidate from the Alliance. Happy?!”

The scowl that the druid had was replaced with a look of absolute shock. He hadn’t expected that to be Khadgar’s confession, and the Archmage was just getting started.

“I need you to get Nadia out of the house until dark,” he continued while snatching up the Night Elf’s hand and slapping the check into his palm. “If she finds out he’s here, not only will she become upset but also more suspicious. These two do **not** get along. Under normal circumstances, I find her taste for knowledge refreshing, but now it’s become my nemesis. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her curiosity at bay.”

Without even a chance to put up a protest, Mordriel was spun around and shoved out the door with Khadgar’s hands on his back. He dug his heels into the floor in a poor attempt to keep himself grounded, but only succeed in almost tripping over his own feet as the Archmage steered him down the hall.

“And make sure to use the back door! He’ll be here any moment, and I can’t have them running into each other at the main entrance.” The second that sentence was finished, the doorbell rang, and Khadgar’s smile returned, “It appears that our next guest has arrived.”

While his companion may have been pleased, the feeling of dread came over Mordriel in an instant as he remembered something from earlier. Even thought this was all moving unbelievably fast, an important detail from earlier popped into his head. Khadgar yelped as the druid suddenly changed into a Storm crow and took off down the hall. He called after the Night Elf, only to be granted a screech that sounded panicked.

It had been a while since he’d used this form, but no matter how uncomfortable he felt Mordriel flew as fast as his wings would carry him. Personally, he was getting quite tired of all the surprises and subtle politics. But if secrecy was what the Archmage wanted, then that was what he would get. He was only here to ‘be of assistance’, after all.

So it only made sense for him to divert Nadia in the lobby, where she’d said she would meet him before getting lunch, where the front door was, before she had the chance to answer it like she was supposed to do, as was her job.

He changed back into his original form, nearly falling down in the process, as he rounded the last corner to the foyer –

“What are you doing here?”

Mordriel stopped short, panting as though he’d just run for his life. Khadgar came up behind him, inhaling sharply at the sight before them.

The tall, dark man standing in the doorframe sniffed at the question and brushed coldly past the apprentice mage. He was almost as tall as she was, Mordriel noticed first, standing only a few inches shorter than Nadia. His buzz cut hair was greyed in many places, as was the scruffy beard that surrounded his stiff frown. He walked with purpose and that holier-than-thou gait that many human nobles seemed to have.

The Night Elf could tell they were related; the eyes, the bronze skin, the bone structure, the way they both scowled…all were too similar to go unnoticed.

“Lord Ravenscroft,” Khadgar greeted somewhat nervously. He awkwardly avoided Nadia’s intense and questioning stare while moving forward to welcome his guest, “thank you for coming.”

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” The Lord’s voice was as cold and imposing as his disposition, “I have no time for frivolities.”

“Yes…” He gestured for the noble to follow him with a sweep of his hand. Lord Ravenscroft stalked down the hall without another word, not even bothering to acknowledge Mordriel as he passed by. Nadia, absolutely shocked, took off after both men with a jolt.

“No no no no – Khadgar!” She practically screamed as neither would even acknowledge her, “Khadgar, what’s going on? Why on Azeroth is he here?!”

“Mordriel, would you?” the Archmage inferred with a flippant wave of his hand in his apprentice’s general direction.

The Night Elf, now somewhat offended at being ordered about in such an offhanded manner, half-heartedly attempted to intercept Nadia as she tried to follow them. He only succeeded in making her more upset as she easily dodged right past him.

“Don’t touch me – Hey!” Her dark hair fanned behind her like a cape as she broke out into a sprint. She rounded the corner so quickly that her hands reached out to steady herself on the wall, “What are you doing, _Archmage_? Just tell me!”

Her demands went unmet. Khadgar didn’t even look back as he ushered his guest quickly into one of the studies and slammed the doors shut with equal speed. Nadia was left to stare forlornly down the hall, hands clenched into fists at her side. After only a few seconds of tense silence, she whipped around to glare at Mordriel, who stood motionless only a few feet behind her.

“You! You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

He nodded once, face passive and eyes calm, though it was obvious to the world that he was tired as well.

“But you can’t tell me, can you?”

He shook his head, a no.

“Should…should I be worried?”

He did not answer, _could not_ answer, and the Night Elf could practically see the way her heart sank as her shoulders slumped and her eyes displayed hurt and confusion. There was no denying that he felt a little sorry for her; to see someone you did not get along with suddenly being welcomed into a place one could call home would cause a lot of questions and unhappiness for anyone. Mordriel moved forward to escort her out of the house and to lunch, as they had agreed upon earlier. Perhaps that would distract her from –

“What’s that?”

For a moment, Mordriel had no idea what she was talking about as she pointed accusingly at his right hand. It took a while before he noticed the feeling of paper in his palm and looked down, only to find the check that Khadgar had so forcefully gifted to him still clutched between his fingers. He held it out for her to see, and she eyed it skeptically but strode forward to take a closer look nonetheless.

“This is a little more than I’m used to getting for groceries,” she mumbled dryly. “What is it for?”

He pointed to her dress and then pulled at the folds of his own robe before giving the check a flick with his opposite hand.

“He wants me to buy a new dress,” she deduced, and then sighed while looking back at the room he had locked her out of, “Why? Let me guess, another secret?”

Mordriel didn’t even have to confirm, as the tone in her voice told him that she had the answer to her own question already. To be honest, he was beginning to get confused on why Khadgar was choosing to leave his apprentice so in the dark. If the Alliance had accepted the offer, then why continue to keep Nadia out of the loop, especially if she was now to become nobility as a result of his negotiations. It was baffling, and suspicious if he thought about it enough…

However, the Night Elf went back to being confused when a sly grin slowly made its way across Nadia’s face.

“C’mon,” she declared while grabbing his hand and pulling him back towards the kitchen, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “let’s put Khadgar’s generous funds to good use.”

…

The poor, silent druid had no idea what she meant when she talked about putting Khadgar’s money to “good use”, and he certainly had no idea what she meant now.

It didn’t take long for her fill a large basket with fresh produce from the kitchen and even less time to drag him out of the house and to the Dalaran’s bank. They received strange looks when Nadia cashed in the Archmage’s check and shoved the full amount, in bills, into her pockets. Mordriel shared their sentiments exactly; he had no idea what she was doing either.

He trailed behind her down the near empty streets of the city; by the time she had finished all of this, it was practically dinnertime. The sun had begun to set, casting a warm orange glow over the blue and purple and white rooftops. People could be seen setting out chairs in front of shops and lighting lanterns in the windows in preparation for Dalaran’s nightlife. They passed by multiple taverns and restaurants, but Nadia never stopped once to even glance at the menus and specials etched out on chalkboards decorated to suit the theme of whatever establishment.

Mordriel began to feel less and less sympathetic for the woman the hungrier he got. Were he familiar with the area, he would have abandoned Nadia and whatever her strange quest was by now. But since she was basically his guide home, he followed without complaint.

That is, until she led him to a particularly dangerous looking tunnel.

He stopped dead in his tracks just below the arch of the underpass, causing Nadia to ask him if he was alright. Here she was, a relatively attractive woman about to enter one of the sketchiest parts of the city he had see so far with pockets bursting with cash, and she was seriously asking him if _he_ was okay?

“It’s fine, Mordriel, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

_Oh, you promise? Well, goodness, that just makes things peachy!_

At least, that’s what he hoped his eyes said as he gave her a contemptuous scowl of unadulterated disbelief. The Night Elf considered his options: he could try to find his way back to Khadgar’s and potentially get lost and die, or he could follow Nadia down the Tunnel of Death and potentially die.

“There’ll be food,” the apprentice announced in a singsong voice, waggling her eyebrows comically at the druid. She laughed as Mordriel cut his losses without hesitation and marched fearlessly down the passageway. Nadia skipped after him, humming a nameless tune.

The further they went down the tunnel, with the mage’s humming echoing off the walls around them, the less it looked like the Dalaran above. The occasional torch they passed would flicker ominously in the silence. Grey stoned walls were stained purple and blue with magical runoff, some of it collecting into swirling, foggy puddles on the ground. Somewhere ahead of them, Mordriel could hear the sound of rushing water until Nadia turned a corner and the noises around them changed entirely.

Indecipherable chatter and laughter became dominant, combining with the steady thrum of a thousand footsteps. More light spilled through the tunnel before them, and as they turned another corner, the Night Elf was instantly taken aback.

Before him was a whole other world.

Dalaran above consisted of uniformed control; even its citizens, now, were all alike after the excommunication of the Horde. Everyone was a stiff-upper lipped human, blood-elf, or gnome as far as Mordriel was concerned. There was the occasional sighting of others who did not fall into that category, but not enough to make anyone even slightly diverse feel comfortable.

Here, it was an entirely other story.

Everywhere he looked, the Night Elf could see almost every race represented on Azeroth before him. They swirled about the Underbelly like a boiling cauldron, never stopping or faltering once. It was a whimsical chaos, with color and excitement bursting out of every crack and crevice. The architecture reminded him of Booty Bay, with stacked wooden apartments and hanging lights dangling like rainfall.

To his left, children seemed to be having some sort of indoor snowball fight, their ammo being provided by a few amused frost mages lounging on a deck. Off to the right, a celebration, with partygoers clinking their glasses together and jesting with everyone around them, even those simply passing by. Settings similar to these were replicated from the auction house to the highest apartment level possible underground. Mordriel was so overwhelmed by all the sights before him that he did not see one of the children whip around in their direction and gasp.

“Nadia’s back!”

All at once, everything went almost completely still as it felt like every eye in the Underbelly fell upon the pair. It didn’t stay that way for too long though, for a blast of cheers immediately assaulted their ears right after the beat of silence. Those who were standing closest to them squeezed Nadia into a group hug as a few others from the crowd surged forward to do the same. The Night Elf could barely hear anything over the noise as the mage grabbed hold of his sleeve and pulled him along through the throngs of people.

Every now and then, someone would stop them and hug the half-breed, or even envelope him in a crushing embrace when she introduced him. To his utter shock, the mage seemed to know every single person they encountered by name. She would hug them and ask how they were doing, occasionally engaging in short banter before moving on to the next familiar, and then the next. He had never thought of her being so engaged in a community until now.

By the time they finally made it inside one of the buildings, Mordriel was sweating and nearly out of breath from all the overwhelming attention. He untied the scarf from around his neck and took a precious second to look around.

This place was significantly quieter than the outside, it’s noise being muffled by the walls and closed door. The mood was also much more mellow, as candles of various sizes and colors illuminated the room. Everywhere his eye fell, there were dresses and fabrics. A glass counter displaying various knickknacks rested off to the side, and it didn’t require any genius to guess where Nadia had led him.

His moment of peace didn’t last too long, as a feminine shriek suddenly pierced the air.

“Ohhh, look who’s here!”

One rack of clothing shuffled and was soon pushed aside to reveal a jolly, plumpish Blood Elf beaming radiantly at the pair. A few quick steps later, and she had flounced forward to hug Nadia.

“When did you get here, you naughty thing? You’ve been gone for ages; making some of us worried sick, not knowin’ when you were coming back!” She gave the mage a tight squeeze before holding her out at arms length, “Let me take a look at you. Goodness, girl, you’ve gotten skinny! Don’t they feed you up there?”

“I eat just fine, Miss Daybrook,” Nadia laughed while shifting the basket in her arms to the floor, hoping that the contents weren’t too squished after all the hugs from earlier, “I hope you’re doing well.”

“Of course, of course, never better! Oh! Who’s your friend, here?”

The half-troll remembered the poor Night Elf standing forgotten off to the side, “Right, sorry, this is Mordriel Shadowcrest. He’s a friend of mine from the Cenarion Circle.”

At being called a friend, the druid felt a sort of pleasantness in his chest, though it didn’t last long as a hug from Miss Daybrook nearly crushed the life out of him. How could so much strength be in such a small woman? She barely came up to his chest.

“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful to meet you!” Her arms finally released him, and Mordriel had never been more grateful for air in his life. He nodded his greeting, which made her look at him quizzically, “What’s wrong? Can’t he talk?”

Nadia couldn’t help but snicker at the grumpy expression that passed over the druid’s face, “He’s lost his voice recently. Still not used to our weather, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, you poor thing! Tourists always seem to fall into the same pickle; they really should dress properly by now. Don’t worry; I’ve got some tea to help that throat of yours. Oh, and I’ve just made some muffins, I’ll bring them out too!”

“But first, Miss Daybrook, let’s get down to business,” the mage grinned widely and took the other woman’s hands in hers. “Now, I think you know why I’m here.”

A beat of silence, then the round face of the lady lit up brighter than the candle’s surrounding them, “Really? Oh, I can’t believe it! I’ve always wanted to put a dress on that pretty little tush of yours!”

“Yes! And spare no expense!” In one swift motion, she dipped into her pocket and pulled out one of the banknotes, slapping it onto the counter with joy, “I desire the best you’ve got.”

The Blood Elf’s eyes went wide as she gawked at the amount on the bill, “Oh my – this can’t be real? Where did you get such an amount? There’s no way I can accept so much…”

“Yes, you can,” the apprentice gently tugged the woman to where she thought was out of earshot of Mordriel. Unbeknownst to them, his heightened hearing allowed him to pick up the entire conversation.

“Nadia, I – ”

“Ever since the Horde has been kicked out, you all have had such a hard time down here. This amount alone will cover your rent and expenses for two months. And then it will be beautiful, obviously, and when people ask I can tell them who made it, and you’ll get more business, and so will others. You need this…everyone needs this. It’s not fair that I have it easy up there while you all work so hard…” Her voice cracked and she had to steady her breathing before continuing, “This is my home; I won’t see it suffer. Please?”

Miss Daybrook stood still as happy tears formed in her eyes at the mage’s confession. She sniffled and wiped them away before embracing Nadia again, tighter this time if possible, and the apprentice held her just as strongly.

Mordriel, too, was moved…at least, as much as a Mordriel could be moved, anyhow. He always knew Nadia to be a bit of a softie, as well as sassy, emphatic, and tenacious, but this was a new level altogether. He would remember this, but would not tell Khadgar: the Archmage had lost the right to know this about her.

“Oh, goodness! Look at me!” The matronly Blood Elf stepped back and rubbed away a few more persistent tears, “A right crybaby, I’ve always been. Gotta pull myself together and get to work, that dress ain’t gonna make itself! I’ll be right back with that tea and some fabrics for you to look at, there’s a color that will match your hair beautifully.”

Miss Daybrook flounced off to the back of the store, muttering to herself about chiffon and silk, before disappearing behind a shelf with bolts of cloth stacked neatly according to color. Nadia watched her leave with a sigh, reaching down for the discarded basket of food.

“I’ll be right back,” she said quickly to the Night Elf standing stiffly off to the side. Without another word, the mage swished back out the door and into the Underbelly. Mordriel, curious to see what she was up to, followed soundless a few paces behind her.

The swirling sea of people had settled into a gentle flow by now. Everyone seemed to have settled into specific places, as though these were their designated spots since before he had ever visited. Groups were engaged in tightknit circles of games or conversation, and laughter was as common as the air they breathed. Food was pooled and passed around, everyone sharing whatever it was that they had. While most wore patched clothing and had the stress of time and life written out like a memoir over their faces, not a single person seemed to be wallowing in their situation.

And Nadia, like Greatfather Winter in the dead of night, humbly distributed her gifts to those around her. Almost all were slid anonymously under doors, the banknotes folded and handled with the greatest of care before moving on to door after door, and apartment after apartment. Except for the produce, which was handed in person to an older Troll woman surrounded by bouncing and gaggling children. The music of a band playing echoed throughout the underground community, and Mordriel allowed himself to lean against the wall as he watched Nadia’s dance of charity.

“Such a good girl, isn’t she?”

He looked over his shoulder to see Miss Daybrook sidling up beside him with a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She offered it to him with a pink-cheeked smile, which he accepted after a grateful nod. A few feet of different fabrics lay draped across her arm, some shimmering and bright while others were so dark they seemed to soak in the light around it. Her eyes shifted from him over to the mage, who had joined some of the other denizens for a card game.

“She tries to be subtle, humble thing, but we know it’s her who brings us extra funds from time to time. Brings us food every week too. Those big houses up above have so much left over, would you believe that they just throw it out? So wasteful! Nadia knows better, doesn’t waste a thing; makes us proud. We miss her down here, yes, but she’s grown up so fine! Better than some of those snotty ladies with all their furs and jewels.”

Mordriel watched the Blood Elf patiently as he sipped his tea. The taste was somewhere between bitter and sweet, an odd combination, but soothed his throat like a healing salve. Daybrook sighed while running a hand fondly over the fabrics on her arm.

“It’s the least I can do, making her something beautiful. She doesn’t think it, but that girl’s got her mom’s beauty, the selfish woman that she was. Don’t matter now though; Nadia’s got a home here, she belongs with us. The girl deserves something pretty, yes?”

“…Yes.”

The voice, sore but clear, made the woman jump at the sudden declaration from the druid beside her. She laughed it off easily and swatted his arm good-naturedly, “So you can speak after all! Should have come for that tea ages ago! This calls for some sweets, and I’ll get you some more tea. Do you like blueberry muffins? I’ve got cranberry too; I suppose I’ll bring out both…”

Miss Daybrook’s voice faded away with the music as she retreated back into her shop. Not that Mordriel noticed, as he was solely transfixed on Nadia off in the distance. He watched, as a child from before settled drowsily into the mage’s lap, more than content to fall asleep right then and there.

A soft violin piece had started up somewhere, soaring gently over the people down below. It seemed appropriate, as something solemn had entered the Night Elf’s being.

No matter how hard he tried to block it out, thoughts of the impending treaty kept worming its way back into his head. He tried to convince himself that this was for the good of the world, that lives would be saved, and that people would be given a new shot at making something out of their lives. Wars would be stopped before they could began, knowledge would be share and cultivated as one, leaders and citizens and warriors would have a better understanding of those they shared Azeroth with…

The music came to a stop, the gentle cords humming out their last breath. The world went quiet, and Mordriel watched as Nadia pressed her lips to the now slumbering child’s forehead.

 

Then why? Why did it feel so much like ripping a rose from a garden?


	10. Part 9: Tie Breaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ji Firepaw finally becomes a key Horde faction leader...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, you hate me for taking so long, heh...but, I was finally able to make some time to work on the new chapter, finish it, and upload it for all you lovely people to enjoy. Don't forget to leave feedback!! :)

Part 9: Tie Breaker

Four days had passed since the treaty had been presented to the Horde.

Which gave everyone plenty of time to have their own personal existential crisis on the matter…

Well, all except for Ji Firepaw

The day the Warchief called them to convene and come to a joined decision on “The Matter” had finally arrived, and it would be Ji’s first official meeting as one of the Horde’s leaders.

Eh, first official _good_ meeting anyway.

His experience under Garrosh had been less than stellar, with getting thrown into prison and nearly beaten to death and all. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the wisest choice to get smart with someone who was slowly descending into madness with the ability to have you arrested, but that was then and this was now. And now was certainly proving to be the most amazing thing ever.

Amazing was probably putting it strongly though…interesting, then? Yes, that would be the more appropriate term for this scenario.

But as the Pandaren stood in the buzzing and bustling Grommash Hold, nothing about him was appropriate considering he was nearly bouncing up and down with glee.

The proposed Alliance and Horde treaty, or “The Matter”, as it had come to be called, had definitely stirred things up these past few days, much to his delight. Not necessarily because of the nature of the agreement (Arranged marriages? Those were still a thing?), but more because there was no telling how it would affect each faction in the long run, as each one would be impacted differently.

He knew this because, for one reason or another, the leaders and emissaries from said factions had confided in him their deepest desires and concerns about this treaty. Ji wasn’t exactly sure _why_ everyone had decided to come to him for assurance; the long running stereotype that all Pandaren were wise and easy to talk to was the most likely culprit. Nevertheless, it was the first time he actually felt like a diplomat once everyone began turning to him about matters of state all of a sudden.

He wasn’t exaggerating either…practically _everyone_ had come to him in the past few days. Ji scanned the room, eyes falling onto the only other sea of bodies that were covered in fur.

The Tauren, or more specifically Baine, had been the go-to faction for information before the meeting today. Not only had they gotten a head start on discussing and processing the information amongst themselves, but Thunderbluff also had the best relationship with the Alliance to date. It was no mystery why they were in favor of the treaty. Unlike the rest of the Horde, their philosophies bordered on peace and interacted more with faction members who would normally be associated with the Alliance compared to the others.

Baine and the other Tauren leaders had done their best to keep everyone satisfied and at bay for the time being, but the questions and concerns still came. It was only natural that everyone assumed they would almost be the gatekeepers of this process, as their leader had specifically been targeted for approach before everyone else.

Well, _almost_ everyone else.

His gaze drifted over to the Orcs on the opposite side of the room, who were conversing peacefully with the Bilgewater representatives. On a personal level, Ji wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about them just yet. Apart from his experience with Garrosh and his goons, the monk knew better than to condemn an entire people based on the actions of a terrible leader, he had yet to form an actual opinion about them.

On the one hand, Eitrigg and those who worked with him were just downright cool. He and Saurfang had taken on the unofficial roles of leaders, working together to earn back the honor and pride that had been so carelessly wasted by Hellscream, and Ji sincerely wished for them to succeed. On the other hand, there was Thrall, or rather Go’el, a figure whose apparent legacy and more recent actions seemed to be diverging that the Pandaren leader didn’t really know what to think of the famed shaman.

Sure, all he had done in the past was great and stuff, but the reverence was lost on him personally since he wasn’t present at the time. Not to mention the way he had dropped this news was akin to throwing a boulder into a puddle, and then he’d hopped onto a zeppelin and left once everyone started freaking out. Former leader or not, Ji thought that was a pretty low move: shuffle the deck and deal only half the cards but not actually play the game.

Regardless, the Orcs did not seem to favor or oppose the treaty at the moment, as they seemed too preoccupied with internal affairs to have an opinion just yet. If Ji had to guess, it would depend on whatever the majority might end up being, if only to preserve their favor with most of the other factions.

His train of thought came to a temporary halt when everyone around him stood at attention as Warchief Vol’jin entered, followed by Rokhan, a full party of Saime-Quashi, and other influential Darkspear. Staffs and spears pounded against the floor, and uproar began as he walked through, startling Ji, as he had not been expecting such a reaction from the others surrounding him. Those who had accompanied the monk appeared a little shocked as well, but the party quickly recovered and joined in with relative ease.

The shadow hunter raised his hand for quiet after reaching the base of the throne. He turned to face everyone as the room fell into silence; a serious expression on his features as usual, but there was still pride in his eyes. Always pride, before anything else, Ji noticed.

“I welcome ya here today,” he began firmly, his voice reaching everyone in the room with ease, “as da finest leaders and warriors of ya people, it makes me proud ta see da best of da Horde as I stand here before ya.”

The thrumming of weapons and cheers began again, and this time Ji was able to keep up with the curve. Respectable silence fell over everyone more quickly than it did when the Warchief first entered, as they were likely eager to begin the actual discussion.

“I ain’t gonna keep ya waiting,” Vol’jin crossed his arms, glancing over each faction as he continued, “we all know why we are here. Archmage Khadgar has presented us and da Alliance with a treaty, and we must be decidin’ how ta proceed.”

An unsettled pause followed as groups began to whisper amongst themselves, reaffirming and refuting their positions on The Matter. Ji shifted a little uncomfortably too; he didn’t want it to seem like he and his people had nothing to say, but at the same time didn’t want to speak first.

“Warchief, you seem certain in your decision to move forward as one, even though this proposition has come to us under the most interesting circumstances.”

Varok Saurfang’s voice carried easily over the mutterings throughout the room. The room went mostly quiet again as everyone eyed one another, wondering what their counterparts were thinking and how that would influence what they would say.

“This decision and whatever outcome affects you, and you alone, personally. Yet, this does not seem to be a decision you wish to make executively, or weigh in on beforehand?”

Everyone turned in unison to look back at Vol’jin, who continued to stand there completely unperturbed as though someone hadn’t just brought up what was probably the most important part of the treaty.

“I appreciate da concern, however it ain’t needed.” The troll didn’t even blink as he smoothly replied, “Rokhan gonna be votin’ on behalf of da Darkspear Tribe. Seein’ how dis be a judgment dat personally affects me, I ‘ave decided ta abstain from dis process until afta a decision ‘as been made.”

Well, _this_ was new.

Ji felt the tips of his fingers twitch with unease as the room descended into barely controlled discord at the Warchief’s declaration. Some appeared to agree with the decision, others had expressions that revealed their discontent; but, most looked stunned above anything else.

“Are ya sure, Warchief? If any treaty be needin’ ya input, it be dis one.” Rokhan didn’t look particularly pleased at the prospect of having a role to play in choosing his chief’s fate. None of the other Darkspear present looked very happy either, if their facial expressions, like his, gave anything away. Though, their disapproval at the prospect of their honored leader being bound to someone they likely deemed not worthy made sense…

Ji smirked to himself as he crossed his arms behind his head as he thought, _I wonder if there is even anyone out there in the world they would deem worthy for their Chief?_

Everyone’s initial surprise had almost completely died down, and it went away completely when Baine Bloodhoof stepped forward from his circle of representatives.

“I agree with Shadow Hunter Rokhan,” the warrior stated, standing tall and sure before his counterparts. He turned to regard Vol’jin directly, “If there is any decision that requires your input, it is this one.”

“On the contrary, I wholeheartedly support our Warchief’s decision to not let emotions get in the way!”

Ji glanced around…and then down to find the source of the voice, which turned out to belong to none other than Jastor Gallywix himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Baine’s nose scrunch up in contempt, and didn’t blame him for that either. With the reputation of being the last faction to jump Hellscream’s ship, and for reasons that were far from the classic definition of honorable, the Bilgewater Cartel had been going to all sorts of lengths to get back in the good graces of the Horde.

There was the usual Goblin way of monetary infusions that had been appreciated (albeit with a grain of salt) for the reconstruction of Orgrimmar. That way was expected and the most acceptable to all.

Then there was the other way. The way that was starting to get on everyone’s nerves, the way that made everyone’s eye twitch, the way that made Ji want to bunt kick Jastor just a little bit…the way of ass kissing.

“We’ve all read the treaty. And yeah, there’s stuff about ‘peace, the future’, blah, blah, blah.” Gallywix drawled on while chomping at the end of his cigar, “But let’s not kid ourselves; this is a business transaction! All of us are gonna get something out of this deal, whether the rest of ya openly admit it or not. No need to get emotions involved!”

“Perhaps that might apply to you, Gallywix, but there are some of us who will be losing more than we are gaining.”

A shiver went down Ji’s spine as Sylvanas spoke, her voice holding nothing but utter contempt for the situation. Out of all the Horde leaders, she was the one he was most unfamiliar with. It wasn’t so much a problem of geographical distance; in fact, the Pandaren got along well enough with the Blood Elves due to shared aesthetical tastes bridging the cultural gap.

No, it was because almost all his people had never been exposed to anything undead before. They had restless spirits and possession back home, but the concept of the dead rising was still difficult for them to grasp. To be fair though, Ji was sure almost everyone didn’t know what to make of Sylvanas either.

“My people and I have nothing against establishing peace between the Alliance and the Horde,” she continued, “no matter how reluctant we might seem. But I find it difficult to support something that will undermine my rightfully earned claim on the kingdom and surrounding territories of Gilneas.”

Vol’jin regarded the Dark Lady carefully before commenting, “It has been outlined in da treaty dat parts o’ the Hillsbrald Foothills an’ Alterac Mountains will be gifted ta the Undercity ta compensate for givin’ back Gilneas.”

“Yes. _Gifted_.” Sylvanas’ expression further soured, “A gift can be taken back as easily as it is given, unlike something that is _earned_. How can we trust the Alliance to honor their side of this agreement, when so many of us have had struggles with them before?”

She had a point, Ji realized: it was impossible to ignore the long history of distrust between the two factions. Others seemed to realize this too, as nervous murmuring started up again.

“No one here doubts your claim on Gilneas, Lady Sylvanas, but we must also consider this from the point of view of the Alliance.”

It went quiet again as everyone turned their attention to Regent Lord Lor’themar Theron, who, up until now, had remained silent throughout the discussion. He looked calm and sure of himself as most stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, and the other Blood Elves around him mimicked his expression.

“The Alliance is ready for a time of peace, or at the very least a cease fire.” Lor’themar continued, his voice unwavering, “They, too, are drained from these campaigns and wars, and desire change like we do. If the day came where we were openly hostile with one another again, we would be in a better position to resolve whatever problems might arise with this treaty.”

“Ya certainly seem ta know a lot about da mind o’ the Alliance,” Rokhan commented with unhidden suspicion present in his tone.

The Regent Lord’s expression did not change in the slightest after hearing the challenge in the Troll’s voice, “My people have lived in close quarters with the Alliance for centuries; I am sure that after that much time, we have a keen understanding of how they function.”

“Oh, please, it be no secret dat ya been gettin’ cozy with em for da past few years.” The shadow hunter leveled a sneer at the blood elf leader, “It be obvious why you would support dis.”

“And it is fairly obvious why you are against this - ”

“Dat’s enough.”

The racket that had begun sputtering up around the room was immediately snuffed out when the Warchief took back control of the conversation. He gave both Lor’themar and Rokhan disapproving looks, the latter of the two not looking apologetic in the least, before turning to address everyone.

“We’re here ta make a decision on what we be knowin’ _now_ , not bicker with each other. Details can be sorted out later,” he glanced pointedly at Sylvanas, who stood motionless and unperturbed but seemed more or less at ease for the time being. “Ain’t none of us have da luxury or time ta speculate, especially with the Alliance already be havin’ their answer.”

It was true, Ji admitted to himself, as others around him seemed to realize that as well. With the Alliance not only being the first to make a choice, but a _unanimous_ one at that, they’d put themselves in a position of power due to making their intentions clear before their rival. A position of power, that, to be clear, was likely the cause of everyone being so restless about all this.

Waiting any longer would make the Horde look fractured and struggling internally at worst and indecisive and inconsiderate of the rules of diplomatic deadlines at best (though those rules were more or less unspoken). A decision had to be made _today_ and no later.

At least they could all probably agree on that…

“Well?” Gallywix crooned, twisting his smoked down cigar between his fingers impatiently, “Are we gonna start voting or what?”

Ji could see Vol’jin’s jaw twitch at the Goblin’s tone, but the Warchief nodded nonetheless. All the factions represented seemed to fold in on themselves as everyone turned around to discuss their positions, either affirming their original positions or debating which side to take.

Or, in the Huojin’s condition, come up with one last minute before they were asked to cast their vote.

Ji took a moment to assess the lay of the room. Most of the factions were in their traditional places surrounding the throne, with the Tauren still at the Warchief’s right hand and the Forsaken and Blood Elves on direct opposite sides of the room with the Goblins kind of smushed in the middle. The only thing that had really changed was that the Orcs were now at the throne’s left side, with the Trolls being front and center, and the Pandaren being closer to the back near the doors, as was their station as the newest faction.

And than meant, thank the ancestors, they would be asked last

“Which side are we going to support?” One of his mentees whispered, a young Brewmaster monk who had come along for the experience.

“Ah…”

That was a very good question.

At the moment, Ji didn’t really know what he would say when the time came for him to speak. In fact, that had been the general consensus among his peers as well. No one really knew what to do. Being the newest and arguably the most neutral faction of them all, the Huojin were in an interesting position which bordered that of not really caring which way this went.

On one hand, attempting peace could be great and meant that they could potentially reconcile with their sister faction, the Tushui. On the other hand, attempting peace could be a disaster and they could potentially become even more hostile with their sister faction, the Tushui.

While the Pandaren were finally getting a dose of the overdue existential crisis that all the other factions had experienced before arriving, the vote had already started to commence. A tense quiet began to settle, as everyone waited for their leader to say the word.

Vol’jin didn’t have to say anything as he looked to his right, giving Baine a look that let him know to begin. The Chieftain looked back at his people one last time, and they all nodded in an unspoken agreement.

“Thunderbluff votes in favor of this treaty.”

The decision had been an obvious one, everyone knew that, but it set the tone for the rest of the voting process anyway. Whenever it would be the next faction’s turn to vote, the stares of anxious leaders and their parties would fixate on whoever was to speak.

_Current set: 1-0._

“The Forsaken do _not_ vote in favor of this treaty,” Sylvanas put special enunciation on the one word that was different. Her red eyes had a more spiteful glint to them now, challenging anyone who happened to meet her gaze to give her the wrong look.

_Score: 1-1_

“Yeah, yeah, we’re for it,” the Trade Prince drawled, and this time Vol’jin did roll his eyes before turning to the Elves present.

_2-1_

“Silvermoon votes in favor of this treaty.”

_3-1_

There was an unsettling pause when it came time for the Orcs to cast their vote, and Ji was broken out of his scattered thoughts when the silence reached his ears.

Eitrigg looked at Saurfang, who nodded once, and stood straight as a post when he said, “…We do not vote in favor of this treaty.”

The Pandaren leader heard a few breaths hitch at the declaration, and his own heart dropped into his stomach. With the Darkspear position blatantly obvious, that meant –

“Da Darkspear do not vote in favor of dis treaty,” Rokhan’s voice was clear as a bell, cutting through the murmurs and whispers like a knife through butter. It felt the world had stopped turning when Ji watched the Shadow Hunter turn around to stare at him, and then like it had exploded altogether when everyone else followed suit.

_Current Score: 3-3_

Oh, no.

He had bet everything that the Orcs would side with the treaty, even though a part of him knew that they would probably say no: a matter of pride, maybe? But he supposed it didn’t really matter now…

The seconds that passed by felt like hours when all eyes were on him. Each side, doing their best to seem neutral, yet directing all their willpower and silent thoughts at the undecided faction, hoping to manipulate them onto their side, while Vol’jin stood at the front of the room waiting, still as a statue and not looking like someone whose future was about to be decided once and for all.

In reality, it was only about three seconds until Ji finally spoke, blurting it all out in one sentence without blinking.

“The Huojin…vote in favor of this treaty.”

There was a collective sigh that rippled throughout the room, some content with the turn of events. Others more disappointed, though it faded from that to pessimistic speculation as they wondered what would happen now. It was clear that those parties that had been against going to accept this lying down, but for the time being they would wait and see how things would play out.

Ji felt his blood pressure drop to non-life threatening levels as everyone turned away from him, though his heart had yet to stop pounding in his chest. It was likely the panic that had induced his sudden answer; an answer, that really, he wasn’t sure how much he really supported. Well, if it was what he’d said under pressure, them perhaps it was what he had been leaning towards all along.

Vol’jin, still composed and in control of every facet of his expressions, inclined his head towards the Huojin, acknowledging that their decision would take effect, “Den it be decided.”

The Pandaren leader held the Warchief’s gaze, finding himself curious over the subdued reaction from the man who had essentially just become engaged. The Trolls, too, watched their Chief with wary concern, as if they knew deep down that the calm was all really a front. And for all Ji knew, it might have been; he and Vol’jin were not very familiar with each other and had never had the opportunity to become so.

“We will send our reply ta Khadgar within da hour,” he stepped down from the slightly raised platform, clearing a path as he started to make his way out, “and any worries can be talked ovah later. But for now, we be waitin’ until we hear more. I thank ju all for ya contributions, for o’ against, and ask ya now ta be patient as we prepare for the new future of the Horde.”

It was impossible to tell anything from his tone, but a unified ‘For the Horde!’ rang out through the room anyway. Many of the factions folded in on themselves again, talking amongst their peers at normal volume now that intentions had been made clear and public. Vol’jin made his way towards the Pandaren with his people following behind him; he could feel their stares on his back, trying to read his thoughts since he wasn’t letting any of his emotions appear outwardly.

“Ji, a word,” he said in a low hush, though this seemed to startle the monk anyway. After regaining his composure, he nodded and asked the other Huojin to wait for him before following. Before they turned into a hallway, Vol’jin motioned for his party to remain in the Hold, and Ji realized with mounting anxiety that the Warchief wanted to talk to him _alone_. Rokhan didn’t look too happy about being excluded, then again he hadn’t been happy all day, but stayed behind as told as the two walked off.

“Ya read the treaty, yes?”

“Of course.” In reality, he’d only read a little more than half and understood a little over a third.

“Den ju know dat it be required dat dere be a neutral meeting place for all da factions ta come together and sign.” Vol’jin came to a stop as he stared absentmindedly down at the floor, “I was hopin’ dat Pandaria be willin’ ta host us again, as da circumstances be much bettah den the last.”

“I…will certainly reach out. I’m sure that Taran Zhu won’t be able to have any objections this time around, but he’ll still find some reason to pout.” The jest got the Warchief to smirk, but that glazed over look didn’t fade in the slightest. Ji waited for a reply, but when none came he started to get a little concerned, “Warchief?”

Vol’jin looked up, and though Ji had his attention it was clear he was distracted, “Good, thank ju. Let me know da minute ya hear back.”

“Yes, Warchief…And, um, congratulations?”

The smirk returned, as well as a light chuckle that still didn’t give Ji any hints as to what Vol’jin was feeling. Before he could say anything else, the Troll turned on his heel and kept going down the hallway alone. The monk could see his fist clench and unclench as he got further and further away.

“Really, mon? Out o’ all da things ta say, ya go wit dat?”

Ji didn’t appreciate Rokhan’s cynicism, and gave him a withering look as he sidled up beside the Pandaren, “Weren’t you supposed to stay behind?”

“I still have ears, ya know, an’ ya ain’t exactly a quiet one.”

“Fair enough, but that doesn’t mean you just get to eavesdrop.”

The Shadow Hunter just laughed as he crossed his arms, a quizzical glint in his eye when he looked Ji up and down, “Tell me, do ya really think dis treaty gonna work?”

“…To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s a little early to tell.”

“Hmph, maybe, but I don’ trust dis whole tyin’ the knot part. I don’ think anyone here be wantin’ some fancy pants mage spyin’ on us.”

“You think she’s a spy?”

Rokhan’s lopsided grin flipped into a frown, “I think dere be somethin’ dey ain’t tellin’ us. I may jus’ be paranoid an’ all, but dat Khadgar be a tricky one. And if I be sure of anythin’, it’s dat he’s hiding something.”

Ji shrugged; he had yet to meet this Archmage, so it was hard to make any assumptions about him yet. “At least we’ll have some time to see what’s she’s like for ourselves before anything happens. Maybe she’s nice.”

“I pray to da Loa dat she is.” The Troll looked down the hall, “Hey, do dis for me: when she gets here, let me know what ya think about her, a’right?”

There were so many surprised today that Ji was having a hard time keeping up, “Um, why?”

“Vol’jin be my friend, an’ I don’t trust da Alliance or anyone wit em’. Dat makes me biased. But ju be a good judge of character, ya can see what a person be like without anythin’ ta sour ya opinion, especially now.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Tch, don’ thank me yet. Da ball be back in their court now, an’ for all we know dis could still blow up in our faces. I got a feelin’ somethin’ about ta happen.”

“I’m pretty sure we just voted on that something.”

Ji had to dodge the jab that Rokhan directed at him, and while he had said that in jest a part of him agreed with the Troll.

Things were just getting started.

 


	11. Part 10: The Truth...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nadia learns the truth...

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

His gaze wandered over to the left as Nadia walked by a pair that were having a smoke outside. They stopped what they were doing, stared until she passed, and then whispered intensely amongst each other, pointing as their eyes flitted over every inch of her form.

They didn't stop until they caught the night elf scowling at them, at which point they scurried back inside with their tails between their legs, still whispering and glancing back whenever they could.

"Mordriel, keep up!" Nadia looked over her shoulder as she flounced excitedly down the snow and frost dusted street, "I don't want to miss too much."

He wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up in this situation. The young mage had invited him and Kokam to the theatre that morning; a very popular comedy was opening that night, and one way or another Mordriel ended up going.

Had they drugged him?

It seemed to be a nice way to pass the time rather than the two druids sitting around twiddling their thumbs as they waited to hear the next step of Khadgar's scheme.

Things had been oddly quiet ever since he'd alerted everyone that not only had the Ravenscroft family declared Nadia a member of their family, but also that the Horde had agreed to the treaty.

The idea of peace was now even closer to becoming a reality. Mordriel still hated the fact that Nadia remained unaware; even Kokam confessed that none of this sat well with her either. But there was no way they could tell the young woman in question or risk being imprisoned for suspicion of treason (it was outlined in all drafts of the treaty that any actions interpreted as an impediment of peace were a betrayal of state).

As was such, the pair made a silent pact to make the young mage's last few weeks of independence and freedom as best as possible. This affected him the most, as it entailed a major attitude adjustment, but the past two days had actually been kind of nice…until now.

"You must understand, child; his old bones make it harder for us to keep up with young people like you," Kokam commented as she plodded at an even pace further up with Nadia. Mordriel knew she was teasing, but his nose scrunched up anyway.

"I am not old and neither are you." His eyes darted to the right at the sound of excited gasps. This time it was a gaggle of gnomes, student mages if their similar uniforms gave anything away. Their already large eyes were widened even more with awe as they stared in complete silence. Nadia noticed this time, and waved at them with a smile before turning back to her conversation with Kokam.

They waved back, some of them squealing or bouncing on their toes, before promptly scattering when Mordriel made a point to scowl at them with everything he had.

This was the fifth time, now.

How far was this damned playhouse? It felt like they had been walking forever, but it was probably all the stares that made this entire journey feel longer. Mordriel picked up his pace to get closer to his companions once the theatre finally came into view, eager to get inside where it would be dark and the attention on the stage instead of them.

They were late to the performance, and had already been so by the time they left Khadgar's mansion, so the ornate lobby was completely empty save for the few ushers meandering about. Nadia didn't even take a second to remove her coat before skipping over to one of them and presenting their tickets.

"We've got a whole box to ourselves," she turned back to the druids with a huge smile on her face. Her pearly tusks and eyes were luminous in the warm lamplight, "I've never been in a box before! Is it true people get nosebleeds, or is that just a myth? I hope I don't get one, being up so high and all…"

She trailed off, the giddy glint in her eye trading in for confusion when she noticed that her arm was still out and the tickets in her fingers still there. All three stared at the usher, who stood before them gawking. His complexion had paled all the way up to his pointed ears, his hands frozen midway to his chest, as though he were reaching for her tickets and then got stuck halfway through the motion.

"Um, hi?" Nadia greeted uncertainly, and this only seemed to exacerbate whatever condition had befallen the poor blood elf. His paled cheeks and ears turned bright red in an instant and a dumb grin spread across his face.

"Hi," he said. Or rather meant to say, it came out more like a wheeze.

"Could you – "

"Take our tickets." Mordriel's interruption was heard by everyone, including the other ushers across the room who were now staring and whispering amongst themselves too. The young elf's flush deepened to a sharp crimson of mortification and he quickly took the three slips of paper with shaking hands.

"Follow me please," he ducked his head and opened the doors, gesturing to a set of stairs off to the side. "Right up there, very last door."

Nadia grinned and immediately began to ascend, Kokam following close behind with a gentle smile as well. Mordriel stayed behind for a moment, still glowering at the young elf before dragging himself up the stairs too, getting less and less eager with each step.

"This is nice," the tauren commented as they took their seats. They were in the box closest to the stage, giving them an excellent view of the action below. A scene change was currently happening, but whatever the previous part was must have been hilarious because the audience was still howling with laughter. The mirth made the whole theatre hum with good feeling, and for the moment Mordriel felt a bit more at ease.

"I suppose it will do," he muttered, looking out at the house. The different floors and tiers seemed to be arranged by class more than anything, with the first floor audience being more everyday people and more affluent people being seated the higher up you went. On any other day they would be in the main house, but Khadgar had been trying to butter up Nadia recently.

'To make amends,' he had said, but Mordriel knew he was just trying to soften the blow of telling her about the treaty and her impending marriage he had put together behind her back. He'd even tried to make a bet with Kokam that Nadia would outright punch the Archmage…Hamuul ended up reprimanding him for that.

"Shhh!" The young mage turned around in her seat with narrowed eyes, "They're starting again!"

"Don't shush me." He spat back, "You didn't shush Kokam."

"Shush!" This time both women did it. Mordriel pouted, actually pouted, and stared out across the theatre in defiance of being disciplined.

He instantly panicked.

In the box directly across from them, all the way on the other side of the house, he could see some puffed up nobles gaping at them.

They ogled shamelessly in all their obnoxious jewels and ribbons, not noticing that they were missing an important part of the play. The wife leaned over to whisper in her husband's ear, and a few seconds later his jaw dropped as he whispered back to her. After a few seconds, the wife got up and shuffled out of their box, leaving her husband to alternate his gawking between the performance and their box.

The night elf watched the next half-hour play out like a tragedy.

The Lady from across the way appeared again a minute later in the box beside her and her husband's, where a small clique of upper-class blood elves, humans, and draenei sat. She leaned in, and Mordriel could see her painted lips move a mile a minute all the way from their side of the theatre.

All those noble jaws fell open at whatever she said, and a few moments later about seven sets of eyes were fixated on Nadia. They, too, looked as though they were struggling to maintain their composures while doing their best to keep their voices low. It wasn't working though; their flabbergasted and not very quiet whispering had attracted the attention of nearby aristocrats and even those on the first floor below.

It was like falling dominoes; soon, those seven nobles got up and disappeared from their box. A few moment later, Mordriel could see them popping into other balconies and whispering into the ears of those nobles occupying that space before they, too, got up to spread the news.

It was only a matter of time before the entire second and third floors were staring at Nadia.

All the sudden bustling distracted some of those below. Mordriel bristled as he watched people elbowing their friends and families to look up, for it didn't take long for every single row on the first floor to be looking up at them too.

In the span of only a few minutes, their little box had become the main attraction to the whole theatre.

The only one who did not seem to notice all that was going on was she who was being stared at. Her focus was still exclusively on the play. Nadia's eyes still held wonder and captivation, making her stand out even more in a room where everyone else's reflected an interest that irked Mordriel more than anything.

The scene ended, and they must have missed more than he realized because the curtain fell and the lights began to come back up in the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. Mordriel risked looking over their balcony as the room filled with applause. The young mage had leaned forward as she clapped, a huge smile on her face as she sat completely enthralled and unaware of what was going on below.

Now that they could see Nadia clear as day, the people below were clamoring trying to get a better view over the heads of everyone else, and a chill went down the druid's spine at the sight.

"Mordriel," Kokam stood slowly, inclining her head towards the back of the theatre. People were already beginning to scramble out of their seats and aisles, and from his position the night elf could see those on the upper floors starting to do the same.

"I see them." He didn't waste any time rising from his seat with as much calm as he could muster, grabbing the young mage by the arm and pulling her up as well.

"What – Hey!" Nadia struggled against his grip, not that it made much difference, as he was much stronger than her.

"We need to go." The curtain blocking the entrance and exit to their box was thrown aside, and Mordriel dipped into the dimly lit stairwell, dragging Nadia behind him as he descended as quickly as he was able, "Now."

At first, she was confused. And then the panic began to set in.

Her eyes were wide as she glanced over her shoulder; Kokam was trailing close behind them, so near that Nadia could feel the tauren's body heat. The druid wasn't looking at her, or even noticed that she was being looked at. Only the heavy curtains they passed, marking the entrances other boxes on their floor, held Kokam's intense and serious stare.

Flickering lamps lining the walls were a blur of light and shadow as they flew down the stairs, the only sound being their feet pounding against the wooden panels. Nadia could feel her heart, already racing and fluttering, thrum harder and harder in her chest the closer they got to the single, closed door looming at the bottom of the stairs.

"What's…going on?"

Her question went unanswered, just as the others before it. It was possible Mordriel never heard it; though the way his hand tightened around her wrist told her otherwise.

They finally, finally, made it to the bottom of the stairs. Mordriel whipped the door open, light spilling into the darkness and blinding them for a moment. His eyes finally adjusted, and he saw…

Pink?

"Oh, by the Light. It's you, it's really, truly, you!"

Gloved hands reached out to cup Nadia's cheeks, and the poor didn't have a chance to stop them since he was still stunned into submission by the bright colors that had assaulted his eyes.

"Ah, you're even more darling in person!"

"Um, thank you?" Her smile was more confused than grateful, not that it could really be seen as the stranger smooshed her cheeks together even more.

"Just so sweet! Even lovelier than in that picture!"

"…I'm sorry, what picture?"

Mordriel's senses snapped back into him like a rubber band. His scowl deepened and he moved to stand in front of Nadia, becoming a wall between her and the bright, flouncy noble that had been staring at them from across the theater.

"I'm going to have to ask you to step back," he didn't even try to hide his sneer as he looked her up and down. This woman was even flashier than he had originally thought; her hair was styled in a fashion that matched her dress, big and decorated with obnoxiously shiny crystals. The skirt of her dress almost filled the entire doorway, blocking them in the dim and eerily quiet hall.

"Oh! Of course, of course, where are my manners?" Her hands stopped abusing Nadia's cheeks as she swept into a low curtsey and picked up her heavy pink skirts. The motion reminded Mordriel of some colorful bird fluffing its own feathers for all the others to see. "Dionne of Liston, Duchess of Cham, at your service!"

"Please," the druid gritted out, still scowling with everything he had, "step back."

Were he a less intelligent man, Mordriel would have just shoved the lady out of the way and dragged Nadia out of that cursed theatre like he should have been doing in that moment. He certainly had the constitution to do so.

Unfortunately, physically removing this woman, apparently an important noble, would only backfire and make things harder for all of them in the future.

"You wish to be useful?" Mordriel stepped closer to the duchess, staring down his nose at her, "Then go and find a carriage for us. Tell it to go to Archmage Khadgar's home. Quickly."

"Oh – yes! Of course! Happy to help," She bowed again, her skirt making loud swishing noises as she did so, "It was such a pleasure to meet you Lady Ravenscroft!"

The Duchess of Cham resembled a tornado a cotton candy as she spun around and made off to do as Mordriel had asked, calling out some man's name as she flounced down the hall. The already strung out night elf didn't relax until the last of trails of pink disappeared around a corner, happy that he'd at least been able to avoid one incoming crisis. Now, he and Kokam had to find a way out of here before –

"Why did that woman call me "Lady" Ravenscroft?"

Oh no.

Mordriel had to stop himself from cringing as he hesitantly turned around to meet the young woman's stare. Her eyes showed confusion and anger…but most of all distrust.

"Nadia," he began, trying to stay as calm and composed as possible, "we need to-"

"I don't need to do anything. I am not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on!"

The echoes of commotion could be heard coming from the main hallway, and this time Mordriel did bristle. He made the mistake of reaching out to her, hoping that if he could get a hold of her even a little bit they could whisk her out of there before everything went to hell. She almost backed into Kokam when the young mage jumped away from him, which only made her more nervous and skittish.

"No!" Nadia hugged the wall, reminding both druids of a cornered animal. "Don't touch me. I am not moving – no! You're hiding something from me, have been hiding something from me. I deserve to know what's going on!"

Along with the mage's yelling, shouting began to join the other noises of uproar, getting louder and louder with each passing second. Mordriel knew they couldn't stay there, just as much as he couldn't reveal to Nadia the complex and troublesome truth.

They didn't have time for this.

"I'm sorry."

Without another word, he snatched up Nadia's wrist in a tight grip and began dragging her away with everything he had. Her struggling and shouts of protest made his heart hurt; he blocked them out as best he could, but they still hurt.

The decorated walls and fine carpets were a blur as they stumbled down the hall The young mage continued to fight to get out of Mordriel's grasp. He was obviously stronger and moving too fast for her to really do anything without falling over her own feet.

The sounds of shouting and bustling were becoming louder and louder the closer they got to the main entrance and exit. Hearing that, combined with not knowing anything and being dragged around against her will, sent cocktail of adrenaline and fear coursing through everyone's veins.

They turned the corner, Mordriel hoping that they had beaten a majority of the crowd to the doors, praying they would be able to get out…

Everyone, dozens upon dozens if not hundreds of nobles and citizens and reporters that had made their way into the lobby, turned to look at them when they appeared.

"There she is!"

Everything fell apart at once.

There was the sudden flash of a gnomish camera device, which seemed to set the mob off.

People swarmed forward; journalists with their notepads and pens, nobles waving and falling over themselves and each other trying to reach them first, groups of people holding out newspapers, shouting and begging for her to sign them or explain or to shake their hand. Newspapers with the big, bold headline Dalaran Apprentice to Wed Warchief of the Horde: More on P. 7!

And there, right underneath the title, was a blown up image of her face looking off into the distance at something, completely calm. Unsuspecting…

Dalaran Apprentice to Wed Warchief of the Horde…

Nadia's vision spun when Mordriel jerked her behind him, Kokam stepping forward to keep the people at bay as best she could, and the other ushers from before scrambled around to try and help. They proved to be an effective buffer, but some people managed to get by anyway.

She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, a rhythmic drum of panic without a dance to accompany it.

Everyone was shouting things, shouting and shouting, getting closer and closer…

"Are you doing it?! Are you really doing it?!"

"Miss Nadia, is it true the Alliance has offered you a generous sum to go through with this?"

"You can't just get married and expect peace to happen, can you?"

"Nadia, it's okay! Look at me – look at me!"

"Lady Ravenscroft, do you have any words for the people of Azeroth?"

They'd been pushed back all the way into a wall, Mordriel and Kokam in front with Nadia behind them. The shouting got even louder, and her heart beat ever faster now that they were cornered.

Dalaran Apprentice to Wed Warchief of the Horde…

The mage turned her back to everyone and covered her ears.

She was close enough to the wall to make out the little designs in the wallpaper.

Dalaran Apprentice to Wed Warchief…

Little swirls and circles on the red…

Like a spell…

Dalaran Apprentice…

The pattern became a blur as Mordriel pulled her by the arm in a desperate attempt to make it to the doors. People were pulling at her dress and waving their papers or note taking pens in her face and yelling their words of support or dissent or love or hate but mostly their questions.

She could vaguely register the two druids making a path for them not hesitating to push people out of the way or smack their newspapers out of their hands. For that, she was grateful, for Nadia wasn't sure if she had the constitution to do it herself.

The atmosphere shifted from the bright lights and warmth of the theatre that was trying to smother her to the cold, crisp outside air and night sky. For a brief second, Nadia could feel the snowflakes wisp her face. But it was all over quickly when the world became much darker and claustrophobic.

"Drive!" Mordriel commanded as he barely managed to make it inside the carriage before it sped off. He groaned and looked out the little window. Both the theatre and the crowd got smaller and smaller the further away the carriage took them. Only the distant echoes of their uproar and the sight of Kirin Tor Guardians rushing about to restore order was all that he could see and hear before they rounded a corner, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

The night elf slumped into the plush seats of the coach and glanced at their new surroundings when Kokam lit the small lantern dangling from the ceiling. A slight spark of magic jumped from her finger to the wick, illuminating the inside. It was certainly opulent, with all the fine details and furnishings, and surprisingly large enough to house both him and the tauren, something that didn't happen very often. The noble from before had apparently done a good job…or maybe they had accidentally gotten into someone else's?

Did it matter?

"Mordriel…"

He almost didn't recognize the voice when it called out to him, and when he turned to the source the air became colder.

Nadia sat still, not moving save for the jostling of the stagecoach as it bumped along the cobbled roads. Her face was blank with eyes downcast as they refused to blink as the seconds passed.

"Tell me what's going on."

"Nadia –"

"Right now."

Her eyes finally looked up slowly to meet his, devoid of almost all emotion. Even though there was almost nothing there, Mordriel could see the begging flames of anger and grief.

There was no more keeping her in the dark, even if he wanted to.

"You should really be talking to Khadgar about this," He began, shifting his gaze to Kokam. While she didn't say anything, the tauren's expression conveyed that she knew it was time the young mage was told.

"I don't want to talk to Khadgar," Nadia's voice was leveled, devoid of emotion, just like her expression, "I want to talk to you."

"I know…but please, let me finish without interrupting. And don't do anything rash or dangerous, like throw yourself out of this moving stagecoach."

She eyed him suspiciously but nodded in agreement after a moment; though, Mordriel could see her hands tighten into fists in her lap. With one final glance at Kokam, who sighed and nodded as well, he took a deep breath and began.

He told her everything: the message from Khadgar, their initial invitation to Dalaran, Hamuul's involvement, the presentation of the treaty drafts to both factions, the Alliance's agreement, and now, apparently, the Horde's agreement as well.

When Mordriel finished, he didn't say anything more and watched Nadia carefully. .

He had seen her bottom lip beginning to quiver the second he started his confession, and now that he was done her eyes glistened with angry tears.

It had gone completely quiet. The only thing that could be heard were the wheels as they spun over the stone roads and the steady trot of the horses as they pulled the coach.

"Nadia?" The second her name slipped past Mordriel's lips, she turned away from both druids. She started to wring her hands in her lap as she stared out the window, watching the buildings and people go by.

Her thoughts were everywhere, raging and scattered as she tried to put things together.

How long had they planned on keeping her in the dark?

Were they just going to finish all this then drug her and ship her off in the dead of night?

She couldn't actually marry the Warchief of the Horde, could she? She'd never even met him. How could anyone ever marry someone they'd never met?

She was, after all, only a half-breed and an illegitimate one at that.

She was a just a mage.

Her place was here. Her life was here. Her future was…

Do I have a future?

A horrible chill went down Nadia's spine at the thought. The question tumbled over and over in her head like a snowball down a hill, getting faster and more frantic with each passing moment.

What's going to happen to me?

At the core of all these fears and doubts, was one person. The one who could answer everything, whether they wanted to or not.

Mordriel shared a look with Kokam, who looked just as nervous now that Nadia had gone silent. The young mage's expression had become even more distressed, and her eyes were no longer sad but enraged. He had no idea what she was thinking, but could take a guess as to her emotions.

The stagecoach went along steadily; continuing its path to a destination everyone was dreading. No one kept track of how long it took for them to finally get there; it didn't really matter since it was inevitable. But once they carriage stopped, Nadia wasted no time flinging open the door and bolting out. She could hear Kokam and Mordriel calling out for her to stop, but ignored them as she marched right up to the doors of Khadgar's home and barged in.

When she slammed the doors behind her, the sound echoed throughout the whole house, as if to summon the Archmage. Nadia waited for him to show up, knowing it would only be a matter of time. All the things she wanted to say, all the accusations and the interrogations, were tingling at the back of her throat.

Soon, fast-paced footsteps could be heard, and Khadgar emerged from one of the rooms down the hall. He was smiling as he approached her; completely ignorant to what had happened not even an hour ago.

"Back already? How was the play, did you have a good time? You'll have to tell me all about – "

"Tell me about the treaty."

Kokam and Mordriel entered the house behind Nadia just as she gave out the command. Khadgar froze midway down the hall, and the night elf could see Khadgar's expression drop quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"I know all about your plan. About the peace treaty, the conditions of it, which includes me getting married!"

"…How did you find out?"

"It was all in the paper and these gossip columns with my picture splashed across the cover!" She took a step forward, daring him to lie, "And then Mordriel told me everything."

Khadgar glanced at the night elf pointedly, who didn't look upset about his decision in the least. "He shouldn't have told you that."

"That's what you're getting from this!" Nadia could feel herself beginning to lose control, "You're upset that Mordriel told me; the only one who had the guts to tell me!"

"It wasn't supposed to go this way, we wanted to wait until everything was taken care of. So you wouldn't have to deal with any of this bureaucratic nonsense."

"Don't lie to me – stop lying to me!"

"Nadia, please, just listen – "

"Is it true?" She interrupted, "About me having to marry the Warchief? Just answer me that, please. Just tell me the truth."

He paused, thinking about how to best manage this situation. Realizing that there was no way out of this now, Khadgar sighed in defeat. "Yes, it's true."

The silence was deafening. His apprentice stood there unblinking, unmoving, the only sound throughout the whole foyer the sound of her ragged breaths.

"But please, try to understand, I made all these deals and agreements for the sake of peace!"

"It's only an agreement if the people involved know! You didn't tell me, you didn't let me be involved – you've basically sold me!"

Her eyes flashed suddenly, and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes as she took steps away from Khadgar and pointed at him with a shaking hand.

"You…you did this on purpose."

Mordriel and Kokam, who had been watching without a word, became shocked and turned their stares to the Archmage. Khadgar, though he understood Nadia's pain and confusion, looked completely hurt and crushed at the claim, "Nadia, that is not true."

"No, no no, you know me." The tears began to fall, glistening in the light from the chandelier above them, "It's why you went ahead and set everything in stone…it's why you did everything ahead of time without me knowing…you knew I wouldn't be able to say no to this."

"Of course you can say no."

"No, I can't," her voice cracked, and she had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from sobbing, "I can't just ruin this. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"I…"

That was all she needed to hear. Nadia made a dash for the stairs, stumbling from blurred vision as she scrambled up them. She could hear the two druids and Khadgar calling after her and clamoring up the steps behind her. The swirling ascent up the spiral staircase made her dizzier than she already was, but the young woman didn't stop until she reached the very top.

Almost tripping, Nadia bolted for her room, the pictures and walls at either side ominous blurs. Once inside, she shut the door and bolted it shut.

"Nadia." Mordriel moved past both Kokam and the Archmage; he tried the handle, and pushed against the door, but neither budged. Then, out of the corner of his eye, the door's sides began to glow bright blue. Looking up, fresh panic settled in when he saw ice beginning to creep out through the edges: she was sealing herself in, "Nadia!"

On the opposite side, the young mage finished casting her spell and began scrambling around her room, grabbing at all the things she needed.

Suitcase…carry bag…money pouch…books…shoes…everything she owned that she'd bought with her own funds, leaving out anything her master had bought for her or given her the money for.

Never before had she been so happy to have everything fit into two bags, and two bags alone.

The banging on the door was getting louder and heavier, and the ice that was sealing it shut began to crack and chip. Nadia only glanced at it before turning back to shut her suitcase with a 'snap' and grabbing the last thing she needed.

Her hearthstone…

Sitting on her bed, she examined the small stone in her hand. Nadia didn't have any doubts about her next move; she needed to get out of here, away from all these people.

These people, who she had trusted, who had pretended to be her companions and made her feel like she was worth their time…

She couldn't breathe…

She needed to breathe.

With a deep breath as she closed both hands around the hearthstone and brought it to her chest, Nadia closed her eyes shut as the tears began to flow down her cheeks.

The door burst open, shards of ice scattering across the wooden floor, just in time for them to see the telltale flash of green.

They blinked as the spots of light faded from their vision only to find…

She was gone.


End file.
